


The Judasian Order

by tlgdenco



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlgdenco/pseuds/tlgdenco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a work of original fiction written for NaNoWriMo.</p><p>Three men have been murdered, and professor of religious studies Dr. Malakai Carlsson is next on the list. Its up to him and doctoral student Danica Iverson to solve the series of murders, or face their own brutal slayings at the hands of The Judasian Order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The early morning sky was a brilliant mix of deep oranges and yellows to the east, and deep tumultuous blues and purples to the west, where the waning crescent moon hung low on the mountainous horizon. The cool autumn breeze danced gracefully amongst the aspens, the leaves rustling in excitement. The faint, lonely song of a lark gently wound through the thick mountainous forests. The mountainside was painted in shades of fiery reds and golds as fall took hold and the leaves began to change. High above the tree line, a thin layer of snow had fallen overnight, capping the rugged and windswept mountains in a delicate veil of white. 

Far below in the valley a small village sat alongside a tumbling creek, untouched by time, as if forgotten, surrounded by emerald fields dotted with beautiful patches of wild purple and blue violets. Small brick houses dotted the cobblestone streets, their sod roofs dripping from the morning dew. In the center of town the old cathedral stood tall, its gothic spire, stained black with time, reaching skyward. Statues and fountains of long dead heroes and oft-recounted battles lined the maze of streets.

Silently a young man, no older than twenty-three or –five, walked through the city’s narrow winding lanes. His name was Johann Christoff. He walked slightly hunched over concealing his true height, his long brown hair pulled back into a tight tail. Despite his lack of shoes he quickly and surefootedly made his way around the wet cobblestone. He wore brown leather pants rolled to just below the knees. His white shirt was tucked securely into his waistline, revealing a rather decorative leather belt. His brown vest flapped open with his brisk pace. 

Upon reaching the town’s main square, he paused briefly before a bronze statue, tarnished green with age. It was that of a fallen war hero, his horse rearing in fear, his sabre drawn, leading the charge. Carefully the young man ran his fingers over the statue’s aged base plate. For just a moment he laid his head to rest against the large tarnished plaque. With a gentle sigh, and one final glance at the figure, he continued across the town’s main square toward the entrance of the hamlet’s cathedral.

The heavy iron clad doors of the minster slowly swung open, the hinges straining and groaning under the weight, the whining echoing on the morning breeze. Gracefully he slipped through the small aperture, closing the door carefully behind himself. The cavernous expanse of the cathedral resounded in its silence. The large stained glass rose windows behind the altar painted the grey stone in fantastic multitude of colors. Statues of the saints surrounded a large crucifix rising from the altar. Two rows of columns flanked the nave, rising in support of the ribbed and vaulted frescoed ceiling. 

Silently Johann bowed his head and offered a quick prayer before making his way toward the far wall. He strained slightly as he pulled on the rusted iron ring of a heavy wooden door. Silently it swung open, the cool air from below washing over him. He had ritualistically visited the city’s catacombs, paying homage to the fallen soldiers and heroes on every third Sunday, as the desire of his father and since his passing almost fourteen years prior. He had come to quickly learn and memorize the intricate maze of tunnels in the catacombs. 

As he made his way down the narrow stairwell, he noted that the torches had been lit leading down the winding passage, an unusual occurrence, as he was normally required to light at least one to carry with him into the darkness below. Carefully he made his way down the circular, and unpredictable stone steps. The light of the torches danced wildly upon the walls as he made his way lower into the depths.

Finally he reached the bottom of the long staircase, and no more torches lit the way, just darkness. Pulling the last torch from its perch, he entered the catacombs, ensuring to wave the flaming log in front of him as he walked. Immediately he was greeted with by the unusually dry musty air. As he made his way deeper into the tunnels, he passed rooms filled from floor to ceiling with bones. In some rooms skulls had been arranged into crosses, bones stacked around them to hold them in place. Other rooms housed the ornate sarcophaguses of priests and bishops, still others of soldiers, generals, and heroes.

As he instinctively made his way through the labyrinth of tunnels he began to hear a faint chanting echoing throughout the darkness. Startled he paused; no one was supposed to have been in this infernal maze at this hour. Orienting himself toward the noise he ducked under a low arch, and began down another dark tunnel. From the shadows behind him, a man dressed in a dark hooded robe emerged and began to silently follow.

With each step the rhythmic harmony of the chanting grew louder. He fought the urge to call out into the darkness, instead steadily and silently moving deeper into the blackness that was the abyss.

Rounding a corner, he could see the flickering of torchlight from up ahead. The unpredictable light bounced around in the narrow hallway. The chanting was more recognizable now, a single verse, three lines of Latin – repeated over and over again. 

Cautiously he approached the doorway, wearily peeking around the corner. Three men in black robes, tied at the waist with a red rope belt, sat kneeling on the floor, their hoods pulled back and off their heads. They rocked in unison as they repeated their dreary chant. Two swords lay crossed in the middle of the floor; a ring of red dust encircled them. In three equidistant spots around the circle, three sets of six inverted crosses had been drawn on the dusty ground.

As he stood trying to decipher the ungodly ritual, two hands grabbed him from behind. One wrapped tightly around his neck, the other held a rag over his mouth and nose, the rotten odor causing him to instantly gag. He tried to fight, to scream, but with each breath he felt weaker, his ears beginning to ring. Dizziness began to overwhelm him. A raspy voice whispered in his ear, “Noli timere tenebras.” 

He began to slump, unable to hold his own weight. His eyelids grew heavy as he struggled to stay conscious. The three men from the room now stood before him, their hoods pulled back over their heads. Each stood with their hands pressed into the shape of a triangle held at chest height. Darkness consumed him, his body falling limp.

When Johann awoke, he had been stripped of his clothes and tightly bound at the wrists and ankles to a large ceremonial table. Groggy and confused he called out, the echo resounding through the empty catacombs. The four men silently surrounded the table, their heads bowed. Panic set in as he fought and struggled against his bindings. 

“He has spoken,” the four men mumbled in perfect unison. “The time has come, the sacrificial lamb awaits. He shall receive His bounty.” One of the hooded men pulled a sword from its sheath. 

The sun peeked above horizon, a new day having dawned. The tranquil morning air was shattered with a piecing shriek. Men and women ran from their homes, gathering in the town square where a woman lay crumpled in a distraught and emotional ball. Motioning toward the church she wailed incoherently. Several women knelt and comforted her, while the men cautiously entered the cathedral. 

What awaited them was nothing short of horrific. Johann’s headless naked body lay in a pool of crimson blood on the floor. His legs having been bound, arms spread, forming an inverted cross. His torso had been expertly carved and hollowed from just below his ribcage to his pelvis. A set of rudimentary symbols had been branded on his sternum – a triangle with a six bordering each side. At his feet sat a small wooden crate, atop which sat his severed head. On the floor a short message had been written, each letter having been painted in blood, “We are of one deity, of love and hate, of birth and death. This is how we preach.”


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy rain continued to fall outside; occasionally the flash of lightning would illuminate the dark interior of the library at St. Sylvester’s University. Inside the quiet roar of the weather could be heard, the sporadic clap of thunder echoed through the practically empty library. 

The historic library reflected its age in its design. The main hall was large, its ceilings rising high above the numerous rows of bookcases. Each shelf was lined with leather bound texts, some dating back hundreds of years. The intricate wood floors had been polished, each step echoing throughout the hall, though presently it was quiet.

All the library’s lights had long been switched off, though a lone desk lamp sat illuminating a large stack of books perched neatly atop one of the many desk. A student in his late twenties sat hunched over the books, his eyes darting from one text to the next. Aggressively he took notes as he read through aged newspapers, and detailed accounts of local history. Excitedly he flipped through pages, frustratingly switching from one manuscript to another. He had stacked the multiple volumes of history around his desk, each filled with multiple page holders. 

Frustrated and overwhelmed he leaned back in his chair. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes before resting his hands on the back of his head, starring down at the texts before him. He sighed deeply. Thunder clapped, drawing his attention. Silently he starred out the large windows, his mind raced with everything he had read.

Lightning flashed once again, and out of the darkness a pair of hands grabbed the young man’s shoulders, pulling him backward. A blade flared in the scarce blue night’s light bleeding into the room. His chair clattered to the floor, the noise lost in another crack of thunder.

The bright morning sun climbed above the horizon. The blue flashing lights of several emergency vehicles surrounded the grand arched entrance to the library. Crime tape was strung in an effort to limit access to the scene, and several officers stood before the building, sharing notes, and discussing what had happened inside. 

A small crowd of students had gathered, watching the commotion, and murmuring amongst themselves. A woman sat on the stairs leading up to the entrance. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket, breathing occasionally into a brown paper bag. She sat sobbing softly, uttering incoherently to herself. Two officers flanked her, each providing comfort in their own way. 

A black SUV pulled up in front of the library, and a tall man climbed from its back seat. His hair was starting to turn slightly grey, and created a sort of salt and pepper look. His black trench coat flapped in the morning breeze. He was in his early-fifties, though he looked to be no more than forty. 

“Are you Doctor Carlsson?” he barked tersely at a man standing nearest the doorway, as he climbed the stairs. 

The man turned and nodded, extending a hand in greeting, “Inspector Alan Bishoff I presume? It’s Malakai, but please, call me Kai.” The detective ignored the gesture, pushing past the man and into the library.

Malakai Carlsson was a Professor of Religious Studies. As a professor he was young, thirty-seven. He was shorter than most others around him, though he never acted as though it bothered him. His dark brown hair was parted somewhat messily to the right, and blew slightly in the breeze. He was smartly dressed in a tan suit, suspenders, and a red bowtie still waiting to be tied. His brown eyes strained to see against the bright morning sun. 

He turned on his heels, and began to follow Detective Bishoff into the library. “His name was Sebastian Christoff. He was a PhD student here at the University,” he informed the officer. “He had recently submitted his dissertation for review to myself and another Professor – Dr. Duncan Alberts in New York. He had focused his research on cult history and occultism. In fact his dissertation was titled ‘An Understanding of How Religious Occultism Impacted the Development of Religious Practices of Catholicism’, though he had begun focusing more heavily on local history as of late. Specifically a group known as The Judasian Order.”

A decently sized group of men stood around the cluttered desk, and Sebastian lay naked on the floor. His blood soaked clothes had been neatly folded and stacked beside him. His body had been positioned in a cross, his feet pointing toward the library and his head closest to the desk at which he had been working. A triangle had been drawn in blood on his cheek, a six marking each side.

Bishoff snapped on a pair of latex gloves as he knelt by the body, examining the deep slash across the neck.

“All the way to the spine,” he mumbled, tilting the chin up to get a better view of the wound. “Where’s all the blood? The clothes are soaked, there’s a small puddle under the body, but that doesn’t account for what he would have lost here… And with a wound like that where’s the splatter? It should be everywhere; the murderer would have been covered head to toe… But this place, its been wiped clean.” Motioning to the area around the body.

He stood and walked around the body repositioning himself at the feet. On the floor a simple message had been scrawled in blood. He read the lines, “We are of one deity, of love and hate, of birth and death. This is how we preach.” 

“Looks like this is more your department than mine doctor…” He joked dryly.

Bishoff ordered that the group of detectives split up to check several different sections of the library, while he stepped aside to make a report back to the station. His baritone voice echoed throughout the library.

Carlsson stood leaning over the desk straining to read through a few of the books, which lay open and spread across the desk. His eyes darted wildly across the pages of the old manuscripts, straining to read the aged and fading text. 

“Finding anything interesting?” Bishoff cooed leaning over his shoulder.

“Um…” he hesitated, finishing another page. “Actually yes... Is there anyway I could possibly take a closer look at this text?” He motioned toward one of the smaller books on the table.

Bishoff sighed and gave a slight nod of approval before directing his attention toward a few evidence bags his detectives had returned with. Excitedly Carlsson grabbed the book and flipped a few pages prior of where Sebastian had stopped. He wandered a few paces away, his eyes never leaving the yellowed pages. He bit his lower lip in an effort to hide his excitement. It was a habit he had developed as a young boy – a habit that had never quite left him.

He set the book down onto a nearby desk, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. His fingers pounded out a number on the screen as he walked toward the library’s main exit. Bishoff and the other detectives watched curiously as he made his way hastily across the library’s foyer.

Carlsson paced nervously back and forth before the building’s entrance; habitually he bit at his fingernails. “Come on Duncan… Answer your phone…” he implored under his breath. It was then that the phone was answered, almost as if a world away his message had been delivered.

“Duncan its Kai, listen, I don’t have time to explain, but I think Sebastian was honing in on a major discovery here. Do you remember his claim that there was a secret sect, The Judasian Order, dating back several centuries? The one that was founded in this region near-ish the university?” he rattled off without so much as a greeting. His questions were answered with silence. 

“Duncan, can you hear me?”

Over the phone he could hear music begin to play in the background. The sudden crashing of a drum, a stringed symphony, overlaid with intense choral vocals. The piece was unmistakable in its dramatic rise and fall, the Latin lyrics ringing clearly. A shiver shot up his spine – Carl Orff, O Fortuna. 

“Duncan? Duncan, what’s going on?” Carlsson pleaded.

“For where God built each church, so too built the devil his chapels,” a low gravelly voice replied. Carlsson’s face flushed white; he recognized the quote as a variation of one of Martin Luther’s. He slumped, his pacing stopped. It was as if in that moment he bore the whole world on his shoulders, sharing in the burden of Atlas. His stomach knotted, and he grew slightly dizzy. In the background a man started to scream in terror before the call suddenly cut off.

Spinning wildly he ran back into the library, desperately searching for Detective Bishoff, his footfalls echoing rhythmically throughout the vast expanse. He pushed his way past several officers and up to Bishoff.

“Detective! Detective, please a moment of your time!” he interrupted out of breath, pulling the man from the midst of his conversation.

“Professor, what is the…”

“Detective, please,” he cut in not allowing Bishoff the opportunity to protest his having pulled him away. “I just phoned Dr. Alberts in New York, I wanted to share some of the information that Sebastian had uncovered here last night.” He motioned toward the stacks of books on Sebastian’s workstation. The detective shifted annoyingly, his eyes piercing with anger.

“And, doctor?”

“Sir,” he paused slightly, his mind racing to find the right words to express what he had just experienced. “Sir, when his phone was answered, it wasn’t by him. I don’t know who it was, but the person began playing a recording of ‘O Fortuna’, then quoted Martin Luther. Just before he hung up I could hear screaming – tortured, horrible, unnatural screaming…” His voice trailed off as his mind was pulled back into that moment.

“Dr. Alberts is in New York you say?” Bishoff motioned for one of his men to join them. Carlsson nodded. “Do you know his address? Where he might have been? It’s rather late there right now…”

Carlsson shrugged his shoulders in frustration, “I don’t know. I would imagine he would be at his apartment, though who knows… Perhaps his office at the university…”

Detective Bishoff explained the situation to one of his sergeants, and directed him to get in contact with the New York Police Department immediately. “Professor, you mentioned Dr. Alberts earlier. That he had been sent the victim’s dissertation for review. Why were you calling him now?”

“As I mentioned, Sebastian had been writing his dissertation about the influence of occultism on the development of religious practices, specifically Catholicism. In that paper he focused heavily on the development of a group in this region known as ‘The Judasian Order’. I think they’re involved here,” he relaxed slightly, his underlying and natural penchant for teaching bleeding through. “The cult was originally founded as a secret society by a group of intellectuals who distrusted the church around 1696. But unfortunately that is about the extent of our knowledge of the group. What we do know is that over time they began to transform from a secret gathering to share ideas and philosophies into one of religious practices.” Bishoff nodded his understanding in an attempt to hurry the explanation along.

“They chose Lucifer as their deity, and established satanic rituals similar to, but opposite of, the church – still reaching back to their fundamental hatred of the religion. The sect became violent with the murder, emboweling, and decapitation of Johann Christoff, a young father of two, in the mid 1700’s. He was left overnight in the narthex of a cathedral for the villagers to discover when heading to Sunday Mass. Though we don’t know exactly if The Order was responsible for the brutal slaying of Johann, they did lay claim to the crime many years later in a letter to the Pope. The same exact words smeared across the floor here were also scrawled on the floor of that cathedral. Not to be a conspiracy theorist, but Sebastian was a direct descendant of Johann.”

Agitatedly Bishoff rubbed his eyes letting out an exasperated sigh. “Doctor, I appreciate the history lesson here, but unless you have something more than two blood related murders over the last three hundred years, that’s going to help me solve this case, and catch a murderer, then I’d suggest you get to the point.” 

“Yes, apologies… Um… In his dissertation, that Duncan and I were editing, Sebastian had theorized that The Order became violent because they had acquired an artifact, documentation, or sensitive church information of some sort that they needed to protect. But it was only a theory, and he couldn’t offer any proof. These texts and manuscripts,” he said gesticulating excitingly toward the desk, “that he was reading through actually provide strong evidence that that is in fact the case. Though his timelines would have been off significantly, the artifacts probably not actually having been acquired until several hundred years later, though that isn’t especially important right now. That said it provides a motive to work off of, as he was getting close to unraveling a fairly intricate web of deceit.”

Bishoff shook his head in frustration, “Dr. Carlsson, as fascinating as that might be, it doesn’t really help me in solving this case. As soon as we hear back from New York we’ll contact you with whatever information they can give us. In the mean time, please allow my team to work without interruption.” He smiled unenthusiastically at Carlsson, then turned and began heading back to the, now covered, body of Sebastian Christoff.


	3. Chapter 3

Carlsson paced nervously around his university office, each unexpected noise causing him to start. He’d impatiently awaited word on Duncan, though inside he knew what had happened. It was just a matter of time until he was discovered, on display somewhere in Manhattan.

The office was rather large and well decorated, save a few unfinished touches. The back wall had been built as a large bookcase, and was filled with a multitude of worn leather bound editions of encyclopedias, research books, and classic literature. The desk was stained dark, though it was nearly impossible to see it under the numerous different stacks of papers, university documents and folders spread across its surface. To the far side of the room large windows provided an excellent view of the courtyard below, a winding path leading toward the campus’ small, but ornate chapel. Opposite the windows, a few paintings leaned against the wall, never having quite been hung. 

An unexpected knock on the door caused him to jump. “Just a moment,” he called recollecting himself. He straightened his collar, tugged slightly at his jacket, and took several deep breaths before he made his way to the door.

Danica Iverson stood waiting for him, her arms full of aged and leather bound books. She pushed her way past him, and scurried toward the desk, her green Converse shoes squeaking with each step on the hard wood floors. With a low grunt she heaved the stack of books onto the desk, and brushed the dust from her plain white tee shirt.

She was in her mid-thirties, though it would have been hard to tell. Her skin was a light olive, perfectly hiding her age. She was rather tall, a fact extenuated by Carlsson’s lack of height. She had shoulder length brown hair, which she often had pulled back. Her soft brown eyes hid behind the frames of fashionable glasses. And though her prescription was rather weak, she enjoyed the way she looked in them, as she felt as though she looked more studious when wearing them. She was the kind of beautiful that didn’t require any help; regardless of the outfit she wore, she turned heads. Despite her lean frame she was rather muscular, an attribute she had acquired from her time spent in the military. Although she had spent several years in the service, she was extraordinarily well educated, having received two degrees before serving – one in Christian Studies, and the other in Early European History. Her memory was impeccable and bordered on photographic; it had served her well both in the service and in her studies.

She glared over her glasses at Carlsson. “The next time you need this many books, you better come help me carry them,” she playfully quipped. “Now what’s going on Kai? You’ve been acting strangely all morning.”

Carlsson feigned a smile and shut the door. He slowly walked around his desk, deliberately taking his time so as to gather his thoughts, and took a seat in his large brown leather chair. He leaned forward placing both elbows on his desk, resting his chin on his fists.

“I’m not sure what the university has released… Danni, Sebastian was killed today, well last night… Murdered in the university library…” His words hung heavy in the air. The young woman gasped, and took a seat across from him, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

“It’s worse,” he paused, the gravity of the situation beginning to set in, “I called Duncan earlier, while I was with the investigators. He was killed while I was on the phone,” his voice cracking slightly.

“Are you sure about Duncan?” she asked instinctively, though she knew it was a silly question.

“The police are checking with New York. There hasn’t been a final word.”

Danni leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She stared for several minutes. The room was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of students passing outside. “Why Sebastian and Duncan?” she heard herself ask aloud.

“I don’t know, but I think it has to do with Sebastian’s work. And that means mostly likely I’m next. Unless I can try and figure out what exactly he had found and get ahead of them.” His fingers rapped against the desktop.

Danni leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her head hung low, “How can I help?” There was a fire in her voice that even she was surprised by. 

Though he didn’t want to see her get involved, and couldn’t bare the thought of putting her in danger, he knew there was no arguing with her about the issue. Her mind was made up. He pulled one of the smaller books from the stack she had brought with her, and began flipping through the pages. “This is one of the books Sebastian had been reading before… Before his death. I think that makes it the most logical place to start.” He sat the book on the desk for Danni to read. “I was given the opportunity this morning to read a few passages in the library with the investigators. Take a look at the next three or four pages.”

She gently took the text from the desk and began to read, gesturing with her hand for him to continue. 

“Sebastian’s family traces to a village not far from here. It’s where his grandfather, several generations back, was also murdered. He was killed by a group called The Judasian Order.” He rose pulling a pipe from his desk – though he had never smoked it, he enjoyed sucking the on it when thinking. “I think it makes sense if we head there. I have no doubt that I’m being watched here, and honestly if I can keep them guessing… Well then I… we stand a chance.” He paced slowly around the room.

Danni turned a page, her eyes never looking up. “When can we leave?” she asked, “I’d like to make a quick stop at my apartment. If there’s a chance for danger, then I’d like to be prepared.” She glanced up offering a tender comforting smile.

“Well, then let’s grab the next train and head out. We can make a quick stop by your apartment on the way,” Carlsson responded reaching for his brown leather shoulder bag. The two packed the few books that they would be able to carry with them into their respective bags, ensuring to take only those of the most significance. 

The pair quickly made their way across the university’s campus, and towards Danni’s apartment. Every now and then Danni would insist that they take a different, and in most cases longer, route, sometimes through lecture halls, across grassy courtyards, or through faculty offices. She made small talk with Carlsson as the went, often glancing over her shoulder as they rounded corners, entered buildings, or passed groups of students. If they were being followed, as Carlsson suspected, then she wanted to know.

Finally satisfied that no one person could have been following them, they crossed the street and off the campus. It would only be a few blocks to Danni’s small flat in the city’s center. She had often thought of moving, to get something bigger, something cheaper, but there was an allure to living in the old historic section of town. It spoke to her. The idea of looking out her window and onto the Saturday morning farmers’ market, seeing the people socialize over coffee in the café terraces, it made her smile. It brought her back to a simpler time.

They entered the three-story building from an indiscrete door situated between a small deli and a second hand bookstore. Her apartment was on the second floor. It was narrow with modest kitchen and living space to the left, and a single bedroom and bathroom to the right. A small hallway opened into the living area, which was framed by two large windows overlooking the square below.

Danni made her way to her desk, glancing out the windows. She pulled her military issued Glock 17 from the desk drawer. Reaching into another of the drawers she pulled out a clip, checking its fill, then ramming it into the gun. She pulled the slide and primed the weapon, double-checking its safety was on. She grabbed a few more magazines and slipped them into her shoulder bag. She slipped the gun into the waistband of her jeans, covering it with her shirt, and grabbing a small jacket to hide the bulk.

She pulled the drape back slightly, taking another look out the window. “Are you ready?” she called back to Carlsson.

“Yeah, let’s get going.” He said emerging from the bathroom, still drying his hands on a small towel.

“Cool. Let’s keep it interesting, eh?” she glanced in his direction smiling wryly. “There’s a fire exit at the end of the hall, we can climb down and into the alley.” She grabbed her bag without waiting for a response and made her way down the hall. Carlsson grabbed his bag and rushed to keep up. Slamming the door behind him as he ran out.

Danni slid the small window open, and stuck her head out ensuring it was still a viable exit. They would need to make a small jump at the bottom, approximately seven or eight feet, but she decided it wouldn’t be a problem. She tossed her bag on the landing and climbed out the window. Carlsson followed handing his bag to her before sliding through himself. 

They made their way down the emergency escape, the aged metal moaning somewhat under their combined weight. Danni jumped from the platform first, landing gracefully in the alley. Carlsson tossed her their bags and followed. 

They wound their way through town, slowly making their way to the train station. Danni continued to insist that they take alternate routes, making sudden turns, cutting through street markets, and ducking into alleys. She kept a vigilant watch behind them, ensuring they weren’t being followed.

Reaching the station they two bought tickets for Eldenberg on the next train passing through. Danni was finally able to relax slightly as they made their way to the appropriate platform. Despite the midafternoon hour the station was almost empty. They were subsequently able to slow their pace and take a few minutes to enjoy each other’s company. 

They sat side by side on a bench waiting, gazing out upon the town through the large windows of the station. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. 

“What do you think that is Kai?” Danni asked nudging Carlsson with her elbow and pointing to a dark gray column of smoke rising from the direction of the city center and university. He shrugged nonchalantly as the train pulled up to the platform.

The clacking of the rail wheels along the track was both rhythmic and oddly peaceful. The scenery outside sped past the window in somewhat of a blur. Their car was nearly empty, an elderly couple a few rows ahead of them were the only others in the car. The conductor had already been through to collect their tickets, and the pair relaxed in their seats.

The peacefulness though was short lived. Only a few minutes into the ride Carlsson’s phone rang, buzzing wildly atop his tray table. Silencing the device he picked it up, and for a moment he sat looking at it, frozen in fear of what he was about to confront.

“Hello, Dr. Carlsson speaking,” he answered nervously.

“Where the hell have you been?” the gruff voice of Bishoff demanded. “We’ve been looking for you for over an hour!”

“I’m sorry detective, I had no idea. I’ve decided to lay low for the next few days, especially considering what happened to Sebastian and what I can only imagine happened to Duncan.” 

“And you’d better too… As I was saying you’re office was fired bombed about an hour ago. Crews are just now putting out the final hotspots around the room,” Bishoff trailed off and paused, “and doctor… We finally heard back from New York. They found Duncan Alberts.” The statement was met with silence.

Bishoff continued uncomfortably, “They found him in the gardens surrounding St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, in Lower Manhattan. He had been strung up by his feet from one of the trees. He’d been tortured, and his body was covered in bruises and sores from a severe flogging. Ultimately he died from a shot to the temple. His chest had been branded with the same symbol we found on Sebastian.”

“Let me guess, on his sternum?”

“Yes… I’m sorry Kai… I’d like to send a few of men to protect you.”

“Thank you detective, but I think I’ll be ok,” He glanced over at Danni smiling, “I’ve left the city, and hopefully I can get to the bottom of this before its too late. There isn’t any number of men you could send that would protect me.”

“But, professor,” Bishoff insisted.

“Goodbye detective, I’ll contact you if I find anything.” Carlsson ended the call without waiting for a response, shutting the phone off and shoving it in his pocket.

Bishoff stood for a moment staring down at his phone in disbelief at what had just transpired. He thought for a time, beginning to tap his mobile phone against the palm of his hand. He bit his lower lip, a habit he too had come by when trying to think. Finally he stopped, typing out a brief message on his phone before sliding it into his trench coat pocket. He smiled, and subtly shook his head at the tenacity of the man.


	4. Chapter 4

It was early evening when the two arrived in the village of Eldenberg. The sun had just begun to set behind the mountains to the west, flooding the sky with deep oranges, golds, pinks and purples. 

Not much had changed in the village over the years. There had been a little modernization, though the essence of the town remained the same. Instead of horses and carriages, cars now travelled the narrow streets. Electric wires had been strung overhead. But other than those minor changes, the town was much as it had been centuries before, sod roofed cottages, narrow winding cobblestone lanes, and numerous statues and fountains filling the town’s many squares.

The pair stopped by the information kiosk inside the small train depot, and though the desk was unmanned, they picked through the several different brochures for the town, grabbing a few and tucking them into their bags. Danni grabbed a pocket map, and the duo headed for the exit.

Danni and Carlsson both shivered slightly as they stepped into the cool evening air. The town sat much higher in the mountains than they had expected, and the biting air instantly cut through them. 

“We should probably find a hotel for the evening and get started,” Carlsson mused taking his suit coat off and offering it to Danni. She nodded, allowing him to drape the coat across her shoulders, despite her already wearing the light jacket she had grabbed from her apartment. Carlsson motioned toward a small bench at the edge of a grand fountain. 

The pair took a seat and unfolded the area map they had just picked up in the station. Several of the area hotels and restaurants were marked, though there seemed to be nothing especially close to where they were. Danni pointed to a hotel on the edge of town, nestled up against the old city walls. The legend on the map showed it was a bed and breakfast, and the pair decided it might be their best option for finding a room at the given hour.

Carlsson, reaching for his phone and turning it back on, dialed the number listed on the map. The small inn had only one room available, but ensured him that it would be more than adequate for the two of them. He checked with Danni, who confirmed she was okay with sharing a room, and he made the reservation. The two gathered their bags and began the brief trek through the city center. A man watched the pair from across the square; he pulled his phone and typed a brief message before rising from his bench, and walking in the opposite direction. He glanced over his shoulder as he entered the old Cathedral.

The bed and breakfast was one of the old sod roofed cottages. The white washed stones created a sense of nostalgia for both Danni and Carlsson, each commenting on their delight with the choice. A small sign hung above the door welcoming visitors, and Danni rang the bronze bell hanging by the door. The deep tolling of the bell hung in the heavy evening air.

An elderly woman answered the door, welcoming her two patrons profusely. Her accent was thick, and her frame frail. She motioned for them to come in, and made her way to an old antique desk to check them in. The inn was relatively small, with three bedrooms on the main level and one above in the loft. The interior was as quaint as the façade, with aged and rough wooden floors. The rafters above were exposed, having been stained a deep red. A small stone fireplace warmed the sitting room, and several chairs were scattered in a sweeping arch around the fire.

The woman diligently filled out her log and registry by hand. She asked how many nights the two would be staying, a question for which neither Danni nor Carlsson had an answer. They offered to pay nightly and inform her should there be a change in plans. In any larger hotel they would have been laughed at, but the woman was more than happy to accommodate their needs. She stated that the couple would be staying upstairs in the loft, but that it was the nicest of the three rooms they rented. Carlsson, somewhat surprised at the seemingly low nightly rate, pulled some cash from his wallet, and traded for the key.

“Your room will be at the top of the circular staircase,” the innkeeper said motioning toward the winding metal structure just behind them, tucked neatly in the corner of the room.

“I know its getting rather late,” Carlsson said turning and glancing over his shoulder, “but would it be possible for us to get some food before we retire for the evening? We’ve had a long day of traveling, and haven’t had the opportunity to eat.”

“We’ve already served dinner for the evening, but I’ll prepare something in the kitchen for you both,” the woman sweetly replied with a smile.

“As long as its not too much trouble,” he insisted. Their host ensured them it wasn’t a problem and ushered them toward the staircase.

The room was spacious, encompassing the whole of the loft. The inn had taken the liberty of starting a fire in the wood-burning fireplace near the room’s only bed – a queen – the warm flames removed the chill from the room. Two large armchairs sat next to each other before the fireplace. The loft’s floorboards were rough, and hadn’t been sanded in several decades, though several throw rugs had been placed throughout the room. A small circular window above the bed let the final rays of sunlight into the space. A meager desk was tucked into the room’s far corner, and there were a several lamps scattered throughout the space. Carlsson flicked a few on.

Danni unloaded her bag, placing her few books and gun on the desk, then tossed her bag onto the bed. “It’s quaint,” she chuckled. Carlsson nodded, a small smile coming to his lips. 

The two pulled the desk out from against the wall and repositioned the chairs from the fireplace so that they sat at each side of the desk. There wasn’t any time to waste and the duo immediately began reading through their texts, taking notes and sharing what they found.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. Danni grabbed her pistol, and tucked it into her waistband, heading for the door. She peeked nervously through the small peephole before opening the door. Their host had brought them a large tray of assorted meats, cheeses, and crackers. She took the tray, setting it on the small table next to the door. Thanking the woman graciously.

“Oh, and here,” the old woman said, reaching for a bottle of wine she had placed on a small chest just outside the door, “I thought you two love-birds might enjoy a bottle of wine on the house, to add a little more romance to your evening.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, the sweetest smile on her lips.

Danni immediately flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh dear… Thank you so much,” she stammered reaching for the bottle, trying to conceal her delight and failing miserably at it. The woman patted her shoulder, handed her two glasses, and winked before turning to leave.

Danni shut the door, leaning with her back against it, her eyes closed. Carlsson had pushed his chair back from the desk and sat, his legs crossed and arms folded over his chest, looking at her. He chuckled softly at what he had just seen. Danni grabbed a napkin, wadded it, and threw it at him. He rose from his seat and made his way across the room, grabbing the tray of snacks.

“Come on,” he smiled, “let’s eat and get some work done.” 

Carlsson grabbed the corkscrew from the tray, popped open the rather expensive looking bottle of wine, and poured two generous glasses from the bottle. He held his up, “To being chased,” he toasted. Danni scowled with displeasure at the reference, but clanged her glass against his regardless. The wine was dry and sweet, perfect for an evening of research.

The room was dark, the light from the fire flickered around the walls. The desk lamp lit the stacks of open books. Night had long since fallen. 

Danni stood by the bed, gazing out the small window into the night. The stars outside the lone window were far more brilliant here than in the city. Carlsson still sat slumped over at the desk, his head resting on his folded arms. He’d been asleep for about an hour. She too was exhausted, but couldn’t bring herself to sleep – someone had to stand watch, maybe it was her military training, maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was the tumultuous mix of feelings she carried inside, but whatever it was she refused to see anything happen to him. 

Carlsson stirred, sitting up in his chair, and groggily rubbing his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping,” he tiredly asked.

“About an hour,” Danni replied, turning and setting her empty glass on the nightstand, walking to the desk. “I didn’t really find anything especially important or revealing tonight,” she started again, “I was thinking we should head to the cathedral early in the morning. See if there’s anything there that could help us.” She took a seat near Carlsson on the corner of the desk.

The man nodded, yawning with exhaustion. “Makes sense to me,” he agreed. “What time is it any way?”

“Three-fifteen.”

“I guess I’m going to call it a night, you heading to bed?”

“Nah, I have a few more sections I’d like to read through,” Danni answered sheepishly.

Carlsson looked at her quizzically, before walking over to the bed. “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, hope you’re okay with me spending the night in my boxers,” he joked.

“I’m a big girl. I think I’ll be all right. Plus I’m sure it’s nothing especially impressive,” she retorted snidely.

“Thanks Danni… I love you too,” he said, sarcastically emphasizing the end of the sentence.

Her face flushed red, and she buried her nose into one of the books she had been reading earlier. “The Order is probably a much larger organization than we thought Kai… If they have resources in New York and here… We need to be careful,” the tone of her voice lowering, filled sincere concern. “From now on we need to pay attention, they’ll be looking for us.”

“I know, I’m lucky to have you with me. If I didn’t then I probably would have already been killed,” he replied climbing into bed, turning out the lamp on the nightstand.


	5. Chapter 5

The golden morning light crept across the floor of the loft. Carlsson rolled over in bed, noticing the sheets had been undisturbed. He looked around the room for Danni, realizing he was by himself. Climbing out of bed he made his way to a small pedestal sink in the corner of the room. 

He took a moment to wash his face, wet his hair, and freshen up slightly. He then set up the ironing board, and took a few minutes to crease his slacks and rid the wrinkles from his shirt. He checked himself in the mirror, straightening his vest.

Making his way down the circular staircase he noticed Danni sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in one hand, and the morning paper in the other. She glanced in his direction, taking a sip from her large steaming mug. 

“How’d you sleep?” she asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“It’s rude to answer a question with a question Kai,” she said grinning in his direction.

He sighed, taking a sip. “Good enough all things considered. Not nearly enough, but I’ll take what I can get. How about you?” He took a seat across from her, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table.

“I think the earlier we get to the church the better,” she replied avoiding the question. “Just remember to be vigilant. Keep an eye out for anything unusual, familiar faces, people following us around. If anything looks out of place tell me.” Her tone was grim and serious, not one he was accustomed to. Carlsson nodded, taking a bite of the fruit.

The humid and cool morning air washed over their faces as they left the bed and breakfast. The streets were still fairly empty, and the several street vendors hurried to set up their shops and stands. The pair walked hurriedly through the town in the direction of the cathedral – its bell tower rising high above the buildings in the city center.

When the two arrived at the town’s main square they noticed that one of the heavy iron clad doors to the cathedral had been propped open. A seemingly young man in a black cassock swept in and around the building’s entrance. 

Danni and Carlsson stood for a moment in the middle of the square, taking a few seconds to survey the exterior of the cathedral admiring the architecture, and looking for any oddities in the building features, though nothing seemed especially unusual or out of place. It had been built in the traditional gothic style, and its high arches, flying buttresses, and clustered rose windows were a perfect reflection of the architectural style. 

Danni tugged at Carlsson’s sleeve, and made her way toward the entrance. She greeted and introduced herself to the young priest, who replied in kind, introducing himself as Father Lindolv Dietrich. Having arrived slightly behind Danni, Carlsson introduced himself with a handshake. 

“Could you tell us a little about the cathedral,” Danni beamed. Lindolv smiled broadly, it was a question he often took pleasure in answering.

“Well, that’s actually a fairly hard question to answer briefly,” he replied, “there is a vast and storied history surrounding this cathedral.” He ushered them inside.

“The construction of the church began in late 1545 here. It sits directly above the city’s mass burial sites for those who had died from the Black Death in the mid fourteenth century. It wasn’t completed for one hundred and thirty-two years, with construction finally ending in 1677. As I’m sure you’ve noticed it was designed in the gothic style of architecture inclusive of the ribbed and vaulted ceiling, flying buttresses, clustered columns, and large rose windows.” He pointed to the multiple features as the spoke.

“Starting in the early 1700’s this was one of the most renown churches outside of Italy. Throughout that period we hosted several Popes and high-ranking Cardinals. In fact Eldenberg was the center of one of the churches largest internal power struggles.”

“Could you tell us a little about that,” Carlsson interrupted. 

“Well,” the priest took a moment to consider the question, “Pope Clement died in 1721, leaving a power vacuum at the head of the church. Two Cardinals battled for election by the conclave. Cardinal Vincenzo Contellini had vowed to take action against the church if he wasn’t elected, yet despite his threats the conclave elected Cardinal Michelangelo de’ Conti – who took the name of Pope Innocent the Thirteenth. 

“After the election, Contellini was able to raise an army here amongst the nobility in this region, many of whom where his personal friends. He led an attack against forces loyal to the Papacy in a battle about five kilometers south of here along the river. His forces were severely outnumbered and quickly defeated. Contellini was captured, excommunicated and imprisoned. While in prison he was brutally beaten and tortured. Legend states that as he lay dying he uttered, ‘May the devil harass you into eternity, may his forces rise up and slaughter your masses’.” 

Both Carlsson and Danni looked at each other an unspoken flow of questions between them. 

“Anyway,” the young man continued, “since then, and over the last several centuries, there have been numerous changes to the interior art here in the cathedral. Please, you should take a few minutes to enjoy it.” His tone was caring, yet proud, as he lit a small votive candle, and performed the Sign of the Cross.

“Could you tell us a little about Johann Christoff?” Danni offered sheepishly.

Father Dietrich violently spun around, now facing the pair. His ice blue eyes flashed with fire and rage. His demeanor instantly switching from that of loving teacher, excited to share his knowledge, to that of an annoyed and ill-tempered stranger, ready to snap at a moments notice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, trying to bury his fury deep inside himself. He tried to calmly bid them both a good day, though flashes of anger could be caught in his words. As he disappeared through an altar door he pulled a cell phone from his pocket, typing out a brief message.

Carlsson and Danni made their way around the cathedral meticulously dissecting each piece of classic art, each marble statue, and each religious symbol. Every few minutes Danni would subtly take a moment to account for the different faces inside the church.

Their frustration had begun to mount when they found themselves in front of a relatively modern fresco painted on the wall to the side of the nave. The painting recounted a fierce battle; lines of soldiers marched against one another, clouds of heavy musket smoke filled the air. The horses of nobles’ reared, as men carried crosses around them. Below the men the ground cracked open, demons crawled from ground choosing their side in the battle. From above the bloody hand of God rained fire down upon the troops. Men burned, crying for help. At the bottom of the wall the scene transitioned into that of a map. Two small inverted crosses marked two locations not far beyond the walls of the village. One was just outside of the city along a bend in the river to the south, while the other was further into the mountains to the west, nestled along the shores of a large lake. A poem in Latin framed the masterpiece. Its translation forming a dark verse-

The Darkness shall rise;  
It has not been overcome;  
There is no return;  
The Order has formed;  
Rome shall fall;

“This doesn’t belong here,” Carlsson uttered, running his fingers over the fresco. “The circular poem, the battle, this map… None of it fits. This should never have been allowed to exist in this place. Why is this even here?”

Danni pulled out her phone, comparing the locations on the wall with those on the digital map on her mobile. “It looks like the first cross, the one along the river, is right about the location Lindolv described for the original battle. The other is about seven kilometers from town, there is a road that can get us about half way there, but we’ll have to hike in from that point,” she shared.

“I’ve seen this poem before,” Carlsson continued, “in one of the books late last night. I can’t really remember the context though.” He said scratching his head trying to jog his own memory.

Danni snapped a quick picture of the mural with her phone, “Let’s head back to the inn. We can check the books, and look for context regarding the reference.” She turned, grabbing Carlsson by the hand, quickly inspecting the other patrons in the church. She made her way toward the door with Carlsson in tow. Two men dressed in suits sat side by side in the final row of the pews. She checked her waistband out of habit, the bulk of the gun nestled snuggly in its place.

They had spent several hours in the cathedral, and the town square had filled with vendors, tourists, and people taking a few minutes to enjoy the warm autumn day. Danni led Carlsson to one of the several statues in the town square. There she grabbed the map from her bag, taking a few minutes to look at it in detail. She mapped a few routes with her finger before folding the map and putting it back where she had retrieved it. 

She glanced around the square, noting the two men had followed them out and were browsing through a stand of fruit, they were careful to only sneak a few peeks in there direction.

“Let’s go,” she directed Carlsson forcefully, taking off at a rather brisk pace, tugging at his arm. From her tone he knew better than to ask any questions, and matched her step for step as she cut through alleys, turned suddenly down side streets, and entered shops only to leave without looking at any of the merchandise. 

It wasn’t long before they found themselves perusing through rows and rows of used books in a dusty antique shop. 

“What are we doing here,” Carlsson asked slightly out of breath.

“Browsing,” she replied. 

“For anything specific?”

“Never!” her quirky smile was overwhelming.

They spent a few minutes in the store before she mentioned that she was ready to go. Carlsson replaced the book he was flipping through and followed her back into the street. 

It was midafternoon, and having not eaten since early that morning, they both agreed that it made sense to stop and get a meal before continuing back to the hotel. They found a small Italian restaurant and decided it was as good an option as any. Despite Carlsson’s protests and the warm weather outside, Danni insisted they sit inside rather than on the restaurant’s spacious terrace. 

The sun hung low above the mountains in the western sky once they had finally made their way back to bed and breakfast. Danni had relaxed slightly, though she continued to keep a vigilant eye over her shoulder.

Carlsson paid for the night before they made their way upstairs. Danni collapsed on the bed exhausted, while he made directly for the desk where they had left their books, many still open to the pages from the previous day. 

The whipping of pages filled the room, as he desperately searched through the books for the poem he had seen in the church. His memory was foggy from his general lack of sleep. Frustrated he tossed a few books aside, leaning back in his chair in revulsion.

“While you make all that noise, I am going to head downstairs and shower,” Danni said sitting up from the bed. Looking up from one of the larger books he smiled. Turning quickly she tried to hide her flushed cheeks, grabbed a towel, and made her way toward the door. He watched dutifully over his shoulder at her as she left.

He spent the next several minutes frustratingly searching through the books for the cryptic poem, continuing to have no luck in finding it. Slamming a book closed he began to pace wildly around the room. He muttered and cursed at himself under his breath. His mind was cluttered and unfocused. He tousled his thick brow hair trying hard to think and to remember, still nothing.

Spontaneously he quietly made his way downstairs, deciding to buy a bottle of wine from their host. He returned shortly to the room with two glasses and large bottle of deep red wine. He poured two glasses and set them aside, allowing the wine to breath while he waited for Danni to return. He sat staring at the books, hoping something would trigger his memory.

He didn’t have to wait long. When she returned the only sign she had showered was her still somewhat stringy wet hair. She tossed the towel on the bed, grinning at the two glasses of wine on the desk. 

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” She mused.

Grabbing the glasses Carlsson walked over offering her one, “I figured considering the situation this was as appropriate a way of saying thank you as I had available.” He smiled genuinely.

The two toasted, and pulled up their chairs next to the fireplace. They spent the next long while swapping stories, telling jokes, and enjoying this small break from the stress at hand. Day became evening. Evening became night. The wine was a perfect compliment to the conversation, one glass became two, two became three. It wasn’t long before the bottle was empty. The room now lit only by dancing flame of the fire.

“I guess I better get back to the books,” Carlsson said his words laced with regret. Danni nodded knowing they had work to do. The two rose from their seats, becoming entangled, Danni stumbling forward into Carlsson who caught her, pulling her tightly against him.

For a moment the two embraced one another, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Desire consumed them both, and he leaned in kissing her softly. For a moment it was if the world stood still, and that for just this short while everything would be all right. Passionately the two kissed, their hands caressing each other in ways they had only imagined.

They made their way to the bed. Kicking their shoes aside they crawled atop the warm quilt. Carlsson lying atop her, with each minute the intensity grew. Passionately they each stripped the other of clothes.


	6. Chapter 6

The faint glimmer of the early morning sun shone through the small loft window, though the room remained fairly dark. The fire from the previous evening had gone out, only a few coals remained glowing orange in the grate. The room door creaked open, footsteps softly falling on the floorboards, which moaned under the weight. Gracefully and swiftly Danni reached to the nightstand grabbing her pistol and swung around in bed. Aiming the gun toward the doorway. Carlsson froze staring down the barrel of the gun.

“Coffee?” He offered raising one of the mugs he was carrying.

“How long ago did you leave?” she asked, setting the gun back on the nightstand. Though Danni was shaken somewhat inside, she failed to show her partner. Despite her exhaustion the previous evening she knew that sleeping had been a mistake, and that it could have cost them both dearly. She should have been able to hear him leave, should have known he was no longer in bed. 

“Not long, about ten minutes,” he replied sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. Leaning over they kissed. Despite everything that had happened the previous night, Danni had pulled the sheets up, using them to cover her still naked body. He handed her the steaming cup before heading over to the desk.

“If we’re going to head into the mountains today in order to investigate the location of the cross from yesterday’s fresco, then I’m going to need to stop by a store. I can’t get away with a seven kilometer round trip hike in dress shoes and a suit.”

Danni knew she couldn’t argue with his reasoning, especially considering it would provide them the opportunity to pick up a few needed toiletries and assorted things should they be required to stay longer in the village.

Carlsson flicked on the desk lamp, and reorganized the books on the workspace. Now that he had regained his focus from the previous day he hoped that locating the poem from the cathedral would be fairly easy. He selected one of the larger texts, opening it to about the middle. From there he flipped through the pages, carefully examining the illustrated figures. A few minutes passed and it wasn’t long before he rose from his seat bringing the book over to for Danni to examine.

He had been right about the poem. It had been called out specifically in the text, though not in relation to the fresco, the cathedral, or The Order. It was contained in a letter, sent to the Vatican from an anonymous source just before the death of Innocent the Thirteenth – whom had died abruptly and under suspicious circumstances. He had been the Holy See for just under three years. 

Danni read the few pages focusing on the poem before returning the book to Carlsson. “You don’t think this organization has the power to murder the Pope do you?” she asked, masking the concern that had overcome her.

“I don’t know. I think that at one point in their history they did... Even if they can’t get to the Pope today, they’re still large enough to kill anyone around the world with only a moment’s notice.” His voice trailing off as he remembered the loss of his friend and colleague.

“Which makes you wonder why they haven’t gotten to me yet…” he finished.

Danni crawled up behind him as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his shoulders gently, resting her chin on his head. For a minute they both sat in silence. It was clear that they both knew the danger they were in. Danni hadn’t yet told Carlsson they had been spotted in the city, for fear of worrying him, but she knew they couldn’t stay in the quaint inn another night. It would only be a matter of time before their stalkers would find them here.

“Let’s pack everything up and get ready to leave. The sooner we get on the trail the better,” she said softly.

“Pack everything up?” Carlsson questioned, turning slightly to look at her.

She thought for a moment, not exactly sure what to say, still not wanting to worry him. “We don’t know what we’re going to find up there, and it’s a seven kilometer walk round trip once we get to the trailhead, another three and a half or four just getting to the trail assuming we can’t find a ride up there or get a taxi… It’d be better if we had the resources we needed with us, rather than needing to rely on memory and fuzzy pictures,” she lied. She knew it was a stretch, but the only reason she had come with Carlsson was to keep him safe. He was the top in his field and could surely solve this case without her, assuming he wasn’t killed before he had finished. That was her job, ensuring he finished, ensuring he lived.

Danni dressed while Carlsson filled their two shoulder bags with the books they had brought. Out of habit Danni kept a close watch over her shoulder while she worked to put her clothes on, though he respected her privacy never looking in her direction until she was finished.

Unfolding the map on the desk, Danni oriented herself relative to where they needed to go. She scanned through the legend of the town’s many shops until she found a outfitter in the general direction of where they would need to go. She made a mental list of the items they would need as she folded the map and returned it to her bag.

They took one final pass through the room ensuring that they hadn’t missed anything, and then they were off. They each grabbed a few pieces of fruit from a bowl on the dining table as they passed, heading for the door; it would have to suffice as their breakfast. 

Hand in hand they made their way down the still deserted streets. Every now and then they would stop to admire the sunrise, or the cheerful cry of a nightingale. They stopped briefly in the town square, sitting on a small bench to admire a statue of a fallen war hero. His horse rearing in fear, his sabre gallantly willing his forces forward. Before continuing they read the small bronze plaque which had long ago gone green with age, much as the statue above it. 

Graf  
Maximilian Jens Steffen Christoff  
‘In victory find defeat;  
In defeat find victory;  
In God find love.’  
1687 – 1721

The name immediately jumped out at the both of them as a distant relative of Sebastian’s. He had mentioned several times to them both that his family had been deeply rooted in the surrounding region, though he had never mentioned the title of nobility, which had been bestowed upon his family.

The warm sun had finally made its way into the early morning sky. They stopped for a quick café latte across from the cathedral, as the outfitter wouldn’t be open for at least another half an hour. As they sat sipping from their mugs and nibbling on their fruit Father Dietrich propped the one of the doors of the cathedral open. He glanced in their direction smiling affectionately and waving. Both Danni and Carlsson returned the gesture in kind.

When they got to the small outfitters shop the door was just being unlocked, the aging proprietor welcoming them enthusiastically. From the exterior the store was misleading, as it seemed much too small to offer much of a variety of equipment, but once inside the walls were covered in numerous different types and styles of gear. Dozens of racks of clothes, both men and women’s, were scattered around on display. Toward the shop’s small entrance was a case filled with different styles of knives and survival gear.

Carlsson made his way through the clothes, while Danni reviewed some of the gear in the glass display case in the front of the shop. She asked to see one of the larger bowie knives from the case. Though she had her pistol, Carlsson was defenseless, and should something happen she knew he wouldn’t have a chance without some form of protection. Quietly she motioned to the shopkeeper, the man leaned in closely.

“I’m was going to buy this as a present for my friend, but he insisted on coming with me today,” she whispered, “I’d like to buy this while he tries on clothes.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want Carlsson to know she was buying the knife; it was more that she’d rather not deal with his protesting until it was too late for anything to be done about it. The owner nodded subtly, peering over Danni’s shoulder – Carlsson had disappeared to the lone dressing room. The man rang up the knife, and Danni paid him in cash. She slipped the weapon and its sheath into her waistband, opposite the gun, and tucked her jacket over the bulk so as not to draw his attention.

Waiting on Carlsson to finish, she began trying on different pairs of hiking boots. Her green Converse weren’t going to be enough for the hike. They didn’t have as many options to choose from as she would have liked, but was able to find a pair that fit her foot well, and wouldn’t require much effort to break-in. She’d had her share of blisters in the army, and it was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible. Finally she grabbed two small flashlights off of a hook, and a package of batteries from a nearby display.

When Carlsson finally returned from the dressing room he looked nothing as he had before. Danni gasped slightly to herself, this was a side of him she had never seen. At the university he was always in three-piece suits and ties, he looked astute and well educated. She had always joked that he looked ready for an adventure in the library. But now standing in front of her was a man rugged and trim, wild and adventurous. In his suits he had never looked especially muscular, but now it was apparent that he invested time in going to the gym. 

“You ready,” he asked walking over to where she was sitting. She nodded.

“We’re going to be headed up toward the lake…” pausing, snapping his fingers at Danni in an effort to ask for help. The shop’s owner rang up each of the tags, which Carlsson had removed in the dressing room. 

“Lake Seewald,” she finished for him.

“Right, Lake Seewald,” he smiled in her direction, “You wouldn’t happen to know how we could best get there from here would you? We’re visiting from out of town and came in on the train.”

The man stopped for a moment thinking, “Well… In the winter we have a van to take cross country skiers and people wanting to snow shoe up the mountain. If you both can wait about fifteen minutes for my son to arrive, I’ll gladly give you a ride to the trail head.”

The two thanked the man profusely, and paid for their gear. They told the man they’d be waiting out front. Outside Carlsson worked on stuffing his clothes into his shoulder bag, which had already been rather full. Danni giggled at his attempt to cram everything into the small bag, and graciously offered to carry his shoes for him. As they waited for their ride up the mountain, she diligently watched the streets grow crowded.

It wasn’t long before the elderly man from the shop pulled around in an old beat up white van, the engine sputtering and spitting exhaust. Reluctantly both Carlsson and Danni climbed into the back seat thankful they had a ride and wouldn’t be required to walk. Despite its condition, they both knew it was better than hiking the additional three and a half or so kilometers to the trailhead. 

The van slowly climbed its way up the steep mountain road, a large dust cloud building behind it. The gravel path wound back and forth snaking sharply up the mountain, climbing ever higher above the valley and town below. 

The short drive took almost half an hour due to the condition of the road, the age of the van, and the sheer increase in elevation. The trailhead was a small gravel parking lot, encircled by an old split rail fence. There were a few signs pointing toward multiple different trails, each disappearing into the woods off in different directions. Danni and Carlsson thanked the man for offering them the ride, and confirmed they would call about an hour before needing picked up. Dust and rocks flew as the van pulled away. 

Waiting until the van was out of sight, Danni pulled the knife from her waist. “Kai,” she started, tossing the knife in his direction as he turned, “in case we get separated or something happens, we’ll both need some protection. I bought that for you down in the village.” Carlsson turned the knife in his fingers, not exactly sure what to do with it. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled realizing there was no point in protesting the purchase now. He clipped the large knife securely to his belt. 

Danni checked the GPS on her phone one last time before shutting it down. After these last few days the battery had finally begun to run low. They found the appropriate trail, and began making the three and a half kilometer hike toward the lakeshore. The trail was narrow, winding its way through groves of thick aspens, large open fields, and dense coniferous patches of forest. The hike itself wasn’t especially strenuous, save for the few times they were forced to climb their way over a few steep rock ledges.

Danni had led the way for most of the wandering trek through the woods, though with the lake not far ahead, Carlsson decided to take the lead. When the trees final broke the pair stood atop a high bluff overlooking a pristine Lake Seewald. For a moment they stood in awe of the beauty surrounding them, the lake’s motionless surface perfectly reflecting the rugged mountains.

“It isn’t quite like anything you’d ever find in a library is it Kai?” Danni joked giving him a slight push. 

“Hey… Don’t be talking bad about the library. It’s like my second home!” He smiled playfully over at her, and she nodded in agreement.

“Well, we’re here. But we’ve got no idea what we’re supposed to be looking for,” Carlsson offered after a moment, with his hands resting on his hips, surveying the surrounding hillsides. 

“Well, the cross on fresco appeared to be closer to a cove at the south end of the lake,” Danni recalled, pointing toward a dense thicket of trees surrounding a cove not far down the shore from where they currently were. “What do you say we start there?”

Carlsson agreed, and the two took off down the bluff toward the thick wooded area along the lake’s snaking shoreline.

When they arrived at the densely wooded area it was clear they had found the correct spot. Just inside the tree line was an old cemetery, surrounded by a rusting and dilapidated iron fence, no taller than wait high. Each of the fence’s aged iron pickets was topped by a rusting albeit ornate Fluor de Lys. The cemetery itself wasn’t especially large, approximately half a hectare. Over time the delicately carved grave markers had begun to crumble; some of the stones were no longer readable. Though it appeared to be a normal, abandoned and forgotten cemetery, Carlsson quickly noticed several markings and signs indicating otherwise. Each new detail cemented further in his mind that this was the correct location.

Each of the odd details he noticed, he pointed out to Danni. He noted that the cross above the arched gated entrance hung upside down. That there were three small mausoleums having been constructed in the center of the cemetery forming a triangle, with six black obelisks forming a line connecting each mausoleum to the next. Rather than the gravesites having been arranged in rows, they had been clustered together in circles of six. A statue of a whitewashed saint stood guard just inside the gate, and though it was old, if you knew which details to look for it would have been clear that it was a rather well crafted likeness of the fallen apostle Judas.

The rusted gate wailed as Danni pulled it open. The dead leaves crumbled and cracked under each heavy footstep. The cemetery was unusually still. They wandered through the plots noting the several different names and titles of nobility. Curiously each readable tombstone noted the same month and year of death – June 1721. 

Carlsson stood before the furthest mausoleum reading the inscription carved neatly into the bleach white granite. He called for Danni to join him. It was the tomb of Maximilian Christoff. 

“It looks like Sebastian’s family was more involved with The Order than even he knew,” he said pointing toward the name on the tomb and scenes carved into the marble flanking each side of the entrance. “That said judging from the dates, I would say Maximilian was a member of the original Order, before they had a shift in ideology. Before they developed a taste of ritualistic murder.”

Danni nodded in agreement, adding, “I think it’s probably safe to say this whole town has a deeper connection with The Order than we ever thought.”

The loud crack of an assault rifle echoed through the forest, the bullet ricocheting off the marble wall a few inches from where they stood. Instinctively Danni grabbed Carlsson and dive to the ground, pulling him behind the cover of a large tombstone. Peeking out from their cover she pulled her pistol from her waistband, checking its load and removing the safety. 

She peeked around the mossy stone tablet, “two men, robes and hoods, flanking the gate. One has a rifle, looks like an AR-15, the other… looks like two pistols.” Another shot rang out, sending her back behind her cover.

Carlsson had removed the knife from its sheath. His only thought was how worthless a knife was when you were being shot at. His hands trembled slightly. “Any ideas,” he asked, peeking over the tombstone himself.

“Yeah, trade,” she said pulling knife from his hand, thrusting the pistol in his direction. “When I say, I want you to come up firing, I’m going to use the distraction to try and get into a better position to surprise them. Remember you only have seventeen rounds, make each one count, and don’t fire blindly.”

He nodded, gripping the firearm nervously. Up until now he’d never before held a gun, let alone fired one. He smiled, mostly out of fear. It was the only sign he could muster to show he was ready.

“On three,” she double-checked the men’s position, realizing that they’d made their way into the cemetery, and were moving slowly in their direction. “Three, two, one, now!” 

Carlsson spun to one knee taking aim at the closer of the two men, though both were still thirty or forty meters away. He fired, two shots. The two men faltered, ducking for cover. They hadn’t expected the pair to have been armed. Yet despite their carrying an overwhelming amount of weaponry, they didn’t return fire.

Danni had waited until he pulled the trigger before scurrying across the ground and behind the mausoleum. She peeked around the corner, seeing the two men beginning to collect themselves. One peeked from behind his cover. Two more shots rang out, and he ducked again for protection. She moved quickly, taking cover behind a crumbling black obelisk. 

Carlsson changed positions, moving from one tombstone to another, hoping to maintain at least a slight advantage over the two. He had missed low and right with each of his first four shots, but now his trembling hands held steady. His veins pulsed with adrenaline. 

Off to his right one of the men stood, firing his pistols toward where had previously been hiding. Crouching Carlsson gently squeezed the trigger, another two rounds echoed through the forest. Both shots struck the man in the chest. The impact of the bullets caused the man to spin around as he fell crumpling to the ground.

Danni, having continued to stealthily make her way along the ground, was now only a few meters from the second man. She remained hunched behind a large marble tombstone, using it as cover so as not to draw his attention. She had used the cover of fire to get as near as she could, and the man was oblivious to her position. The knife weighed heavy in her hands. She could hear the leaves rustle, and knew he was moving in her direction. She gripped the knife tightly and prepared for the worst.

The man rounded the corner, and she leapt taking advantage of his surprise. As she jumped she grabbed the rifle with her free hand and knocked the gun to the ground a few paces away. The two fell backward intertwined with each other and struggling to get the upper hand. Danni tried to use the knife in an effort to gain his submission, but he was stronger than she had expected, and was able to successfully and hastily wrestle the knife away from her.

Quickly her advantage had disappeared, and she struggled violently to regain control. Carlsson, unaware of the situation happening to the left and around the mausoleum, crouched low to the ground, using each grave marker as cover. Slowly he made his way to where the man he shot should be laying. His gun ever at the ready. He rounded a final marker seeing the man lying on the ground. He pointed the gun in his direction and crept closer. He prodded the man with his hand, but he didn’t move. It was then that he began to feel sick, the realization setting in that he had killed a man, regardless of the situation. 

The weight of the man atop her, had pinned Danni’s legs beneath her. Her wrists held firm to the ground. She struggled violently, but wasn’t making any progress. In an act of desperation she jerked her head violently forward, striking the man’s nose with the brunt of her forehead.

The man’s blood dripped from his broken nose down onto her face and hair. Stunned, his grip weakened, affording Danni the ability to be able to wrestle an arm free, striking the man across the jaw. He fell to her left, his loose hand grabbing for the knife and finding it. 

He swung it violently in her direction, his blow being deflected by her arm. Her combat training was flooding back to her waves of memories, as she countered his every move with one of her own. Her heart raced, as she began to understand and grasp the true danger of the current struggle. 

Using his weight against her, he had been able to climb back on top of her. He tried frantically to stab her with the knife. She gripped his wrists tightly, summoning every ounce of strength she had in her to hold the knife at bay.

As her strength began to falter a foot flew in out of nowhere, kicking the attacker in the side of the head and knocking him off from on top of her. Carlsson pointed the barrel of the gun squarely in the man’s face, shouting for him to remain still. He smiled sickly, blood running down the front of his face. He lunged to his right, rolling to his stomach and reaching for the rifle.

Two shots rang out. The man lay motionless on the ground, his hand resting on the handle of the gun, a pool of blood beginning to form beneath his lifeless body. Danni grabbed the rifle, and out of habit moved it out of his reach. She then rolled the man over, in order to check his pulse. 

He was still alive, though only just barely. The bullets had entered his back, one between the fifth and sixth rib, the other shot through his abdomen. With each breath a soft gurgling came from the man’s chest. Blood soaked his black robe. 

“Who are you? Who sent you?” Danni hurriedly questioned hoping she could gather information before he died. Rather then answer the man smiled snidely, welcoming death. 

He tried to laugh, but instead he coughed twice, blood spitting from his mouth. One of the man’s lungs was filling with blood; slowly but surely he was drowning, right there before them. He struggled to take a few more shallow breaths and he was gone, his eyes growing dark and empty. 

“Search the other body, I’ve got this one,” Danni scowled in frustration. “Some one sent them here after us and we need to know who.”

“Shouldn’t we contact the police, avoid contaminating the scene?” Carlsson pressed.

“We could…” she hesitated, “but I don’t take being shot at lightly. And honestly, I want to know the answers for myself, not wait on some investigation while we’re still endanger.” Carlsson conceded the point, and began to make his way back across the cemetery.

The two men were both of similar build, and appeared to be in their early forties. Their heads had been shaven, and they both had the same tattoo inked on the left side of their skulls, only visible when the area was shaven – it was a circle in which six arrows emerged from the center. Under their robes they wore normal hiking gear. It was clear they hadn’t wanted to be noticed or memorable in any way should they have met anyone else while on the trail.

“They had to have changed into these robes somewhere near here. That means they would have had to have brought some sort of packs to conceal their equipment and gear. We’ll need to search for that as well, see what else they brought with them,” Danni commented standing tall over the man who had so brutally tried to stab her.

She gently pulled his robe aside, and began to rummage through his pockets, trying to avoid covering herself in blood. His pockets were empty, except for a single pair of zip-cuffs. Danni threw the cuffs to the ground in disgust, “Nothing!”

Carlsson used his foot to roll the second man over. The man’s face had been frozen and contorted in horror. Kneeling he pulled the robe open, trying to avoid any unnecessary contact with the blood soaked cloth. The man carried only an additional set of zip-cuffs and a fairly new looking mobile phone.

“I’ve got something,” he called to Danni who immediately jogged over.

The phone looked almost brand new, yet it was entirely and uncharacteristically empty except for a series of text messages. No contacts, no email, no call history. The text history showed that the conversations was one directional, and that the men had only ever received orders, never responding or questioning what they were told to do. Danni and Carlsson scrolled through the phone reading each of the messages.

The phone made it clear they had been spotted days earlier, and that whomever was in charge of The Order was getting information regarding their movement much more quickly than he should have been. Danni’s heart sank to think that they had been under surveillance, and that she hadn’t been able to pick up on it.

The string of messages outlined that Dr. Malakai Carlsson was not to be injured, but rather captured. He would be held and tortured for several days, before being ritualistically slain and placed on display, as a gruesome statement to the world. Danni was only ever referred to as “the woman”, and was regarded as worthless to the organization. If they could capture her they would, but if she put up any struggle then they had permission to kill her, and dump her body wherever they saw fit. 

After reading through the messages Carlsson was overcome with a sense of dread, and Danni with an instinct of survival. This was a situation she’d experienced, in a way, before, and it was one she wasn’t going to lose. She gathered the two pistols from the second man, checking the ammunition and load – each gun missing three rounds. She emptied one magazine to fill the other, and reloaded the gun, placing both of the confiscated pistols in her bag.

“We need to call this in,” Danni muttered, “How’s your phone on battery? Mine’s practically dead.”

Carlsson pulled his phone from his pocket, turning it on. “Battery’s fine. No signal here though. We’ll need to head back toward town before we can contact anyone.”

A cool mountain breeze began to blow through the forest, as the pair decided they would hike out to the trailhead, calling authorities from there, knowing that had been the last place they where they had any signal. 

They grabbed their bags, leaving only the large rifle behind. Uncertain of what the hike out might have in store for them, Danni wanted to be ready for anything. She also liked the idea of arming her partner with something more substantial than a six-inch hunter’s knife. They also decided to take the phone, hoping that it would provide them with a few additional clues as to who the two men were, but more importantly who had wanted to see them captured.

The hike back to the trailhead was far more onerous than the one earlier in the morning. The pair carried the burden of knowledge with them. An uncomfortable and overwhelming knowledge that they were no longer the hunters, but rather the hunted; that they were the targets of an organization that preferred to see them hacked apart rather than remain whole.

Danni and Carlsson had been walking for approximately twenty minutes when the dead man’s phone chimed with a message. After a moment it chimed several more times. They took a moment to stop and check the messages. The red LED atop the phone flashed incessantly – the screen showed they had received three new messages.

So you’ve managed to get the phone. Congratulations. How nice for you both.

Don’t worry. We won’t give up. You’ve only bought yourselves a minimal amount of time.

Also, don’t forget to run… I like a chase. It keeps me entertained.

How the sender knew that they had managed to gain possession of the phone and remain uncaught they didn’t know, but the longer they stayed in the woods alone, the greater their chances of being attacked again. They quickened their pace, each of them constantly surveying the surrounding ridges, straining to see through the dense wood for any movement. 

It wasn’t long before they closed in on the trailhead, and Carlsson checked his phone. He still had barely any signal, though it would be enough to make a call. For a moment they both discussed the best strategy for how to approach the authorities. Finally they agreed that the less information they turned over to the police over the phone the harder it would be for the wrong ears to hear what had happened back at the cemetery. After all, to this point, Eldenberg hadn’t quite provided them the escape from danger that they’d expected.

After phoning the police, they continued to make their way to the parking lot from which they’d taken off. They were told they’d be met by a group of three officers who would have all terrain vehicles, and that it would be approximately an hour and a half. They were to lead them back to the sight of the bodies.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn’t feel as though they’d waited long after the call, when the officers finally arrived in the gravel parking lot. They pulled up in a large marked SUV, pulling a trailer loaded with three all terrain vehicles. As they’d been assured three officers exited the vehicle. They were in uniform, though not that of a traditional beat officer. They wore tan canvas pants, each pocket down the leg filled with equipment. Their shirts were beige with brown shoulder bars, and their badges shone in the midday sun. 

They asked the two a few questions before unloading the trailer and checking their gear. Danni rode with the front officer, leading the way back to the cemetery, while Carlsson rode with the last. The trip was far quicker on the vehicles than it had been walking, taking only about ten minutes. 

When they arrived back at the cemetery the group made their way, single file, through small the gate. Danni and Carlsson lead the officers to where the bodies should have been. Unfortunately when the pair there, the two dead men were gone, barely even a trace remained that they’d been there at all. Someone had visited the cemetery while they were gone. They cleaned the ground of the many gun casings and personal belongings that had been littered about, as well cover any signs of a struggle having taken place. There were still the two patches of damp soil where the blood had pooled under each man, and the leaves and pine straw had been dyed red from the blood. Though there wasn’t enough to support their claims that two men had died here.

The officer’s looked around the cemetery, but do to lack of any physical evidence were unable to confirm that any crime or real struggle had even occurred, after all each piece of physical evidence had been removed. The only thing the officers could say for certain was that most likely something had lay on the ground bleeding. 

“Are you sure that what you saw were men,” one of the officers asked skeptically, “we get a few hunters out here shooting deer out of season. They could have used this as a sort of holding area for the meat. It’s possible that they might have come to retrieve their kills while you were waiting on us.” 

It wasn’t worth either Danni or Carlsson’s time to disagree or ague with the officers about the incident, nor was it in their best interest to cast suspicion on themselves by elaborating on their story. They both conceded that they may have made a mistake, and called the authorities too early, mistaking animal carcasses for that of men. Trying to explain exactly what had happened, and implicating themselves in the deaths of two men whose bodies were now missing, would have served only to delay what they were working toward trying to solve.

The group mounted the ATV’s and made their way back toward the parking lot. The stolen phone in Carlsson’s pocket chimed, barely audible above the load roar of the three two stroke engines of the ATV’s. His stomach knotted as he imagined what the message might say. 

“How could this person know we had brought in the police? How could they know we had just left the scene? Perhaps it’s all just a coincidence, some sick move in this game of cat and mouse… Why is he toying with us?” he wondered silently to himself. All doubt was cast aside, when he reached into his pocket and retrieved the phone.

We couldn’t have let the authorities find our little friends. After all how would they react at two of their friends dead in the forest? I want you... And I can’t have you locked up in a cell, where would be the fun in that?

Anxiety and dread began to build in the pit of his stomach, as hundreds of questions raced through his mind. He wanted nothing more than this whole ordeal to be over, to be able to return home, and make his way back to the library, where he felt most comfortable. He wanted life to return to normal, to spend time with Danni, and to get back to his research. But for now he had to suppress all of these thoughts and feelings, and try to focus on the situation at hand.

The officers loaded their vehicles and gear back onto the trailer, and they offered the pair a ride back to the village. Danni and Carlsson thanked the men for their offer, but politely declined, as they had already phoned the shop owner to come pick them up.

The warm afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the empty parking lot as Danni paced nervously back and forth, turning suspiciously toward every unexpected noise. Carlsson sat attentively reading through one of the many of the books he had brought from the university – a sort of encyclopedia of secret societies. He had recognized the tattoos on the men as belonging to another of secret organization, though he actually knew little about them other than their name – ‘The Guardians of Sin’. 

He had come across them only a few times in his research, and scholars didn’t seem to know much about them. One of the many lectures he had attended in Rome the previous year had mentioned The Guardians briefly. He recalled that the presenter had cited evidence that pointed to the group having had vanished in the mid-nineteenth century. 

From a distance Danni could hear the aged van bounce up the road, and it wasn’t long until it pulled into the parking lot. She moved quickly to retrieve her bag from the fence post that she had hung it on. Carlsson, having been engrossed in his reading, failed to notice its arrival until she tugged gently at his shoulder, pulling him from his book.

He grabbed his bag and hopped into the back of the van, immediately resuming what he had been reading. Slightly annoyed by his behavior, Danni greeted the elderly man for the both of them, and thanked him for taking the time to come and pick them up. 

“Look at this,” Carlsson said intrigued, holding the book up for her to see, pointing at a paragraph in the middle of the page. “It says here that The Guardians were originally founded in the late seventeenth century here in Eldenberg, as an organization for hire. Their membership had consisted of professional criminals, wealthy business men, and masons.” He glanced up from the book in order to gage her reaction. It wasn’t what he had expected, disappointed he continued. “Many of the men were master craftsmen and laborers by trade, and were rumored to have built a series of secret tunnels under the city allowing them to move, meet, and conduct organization business in secret below the streets.” Danni nodded, her eyes darting across the page as she skimmed the passage.

“I think we should visit the town’s archive immediately once we get back. I’m sure that they would have some old maps there that can shed some light on what’s going on beneath the city. Hopefully it could even point us in the right direction for working through this business with The Order, and if there’s something in the tunnels then we need to check it out,” he said thinking out loud, returning to his reading. 

Danni quickly agreed with his reasoning, and rested her head on his shoulder as the van bounded down the mountain road. She was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to take a few minutes to rest. If the morning had been any indication of what was to come, then it was clear that they wouldn’t be sleeping soundly again for quite a while. Carlsson rested his cheek against the top of her head, “I’ve heard it said that the present is just a pleasant distraction from the past. Right now, in this moment, I think for the first time I finally understand what that means.” She smiled, closing her eyes for just a moment.

As the van slowed to a stop in front of the man’s small shop Carlsson had to wake Danni. She had managed to fall asleep and stay asleep despite the rough road and loud whine of the van’s brakes as they made their way down the steep mountainside.

They both thanked the driver again, offering to pay for his services, but he emphatically rejected the idea of payment. He gave them both a small hug and wished them a pleasant rest of their trip.

“Good luck,” he called, waving after them as they made their way back into the village’s main square. Without stopping they both turned and waved back. The old man smiled before returning to his shop. From behind the counter he pulled a small black phone and began typing out a simple message.

They were both slightly hungry, and had decided it best to stop for a quick lunch at a small food cart in the middle of the square. They were both still weary of their surroundings, and the recent text messages had put them even more on edge as the day had progressed. Carlsson tried to eat little, but his nausea returned with the memory of what he had done earlier. He ate what he could before offering the rest of his meal to a homeless man who sat playing a rusted and dented flute trying to raise money.

As they ate they both admired the architecture of the town’s cathedral. Though such buildings were common around much of Europe, this one seemed to have a character, which differentiated from all the rest. Father Dietrich greeted people out front as he went about his daily routine. Seeing the couple he quickly wrapped up his conversation and made his way over.

He greeted the two warmly, asking them how they had been enjoying their stay in the village. In honesty they both commented on the town’s unique character, and its penchant for nostalgia.

“I just wanted to come over and genuinely thank you for your generosity,” he said to Carlsson, reaching out and shaking his hand, “I had noticed you shared your lunch with the less fortunate, and I wanted to say the world might be a better place if there were more compassionate individuals such as yourself.”

Carlsson wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to the father, but agreed that the world had changed, and that humanity was no longer as concerned with the less fortunate as it had been in previous times. The two spoke for some time before Danni interrupted mentioning that they needed to go. Again the men shook hands, and Danni and Carlsson took off through the square in search of the town archive.

It was still fairly early in the day when the two eventually arrived at city’s archive. Fitting for an archive, the building was old and ornate, its construction dating back to at least the early nineteenth century. It had been built using large blocks of limestone, which had since yellowed slightly. Large arched and paned windows lined both the upper and lower levels of the building’s street facing façade. Two large columns flanked the domed entry, providing both supported and classical artistic flare. Large wooden French doors with ornate pewter handles marked the entryway.

Inside, the floors had been tiled in fine white granite. The rows upon rows of large bookshelves, made of dark rich cheery, filled the main level of the facility. Numerous desks with old fashion brass lamps and wooden rolling chairs filled the large research area to the right of the main foyer. The expansive and cavernous interior of the building resounded with each page being turned, each footstep on the hard granite tile, each cough, and each breath. The magnificent ribbed ceilings towered overhead, and the second floor loft encircled the space, looking down into the first floor. Golden yellow light flooded into the building from its numerous windows. It was places like this where Carlsson felt the most at home, the most comfortable.

The pair checked in with the archive’s receptionist, filing out their names and purpose of research on the guest logbook. Though manuscripts could be checked out from the building there was a fee associated with doing so, and additional documentation would be required if they decided it was necessary – for the time being they rejected the need for these services. The receptionist graciously pointed them in the appropriate direction of where to find all of city’s historical planning documents. Without hesitating the two began searching through the many different books hoping they could quickly find some record of what they were looking for.

They began their research by pulling several old maps from the late seventeenth century spanning forward into the mid-nineteenth century, about the time The Guardians were founded through to the height of their activities; this would have also been about the time that the construction on the town’s striking cathedral began. The pair also retrieved several area maps, books dedicated to the local history and development of the town, and historical documents, inclusive of city declarations, from the period, though as they read they realized each one failed to mention or contain any relevant information on tunnels.

Leaning back in her chair Danni forcefully closed one of her books, it was apparent that her frustrations were building. “Kai, what if the tunnels were kept secret enough to have only been discovered later, in more recent history,” she asked, thinking out loud, “say during one of the world wars, or during one of the skirmishes to occur in this region in the late eighteen hundreds?”

Carlsson’s eyes grew wide; it had dawned on him that they had been looking in the wrong place, “Of course! We’ve been looking too far back in history. The tunnels would have only been discovered by accident or by mistake! No one outside of the organization was supposed to have known they existed.” He jumped up from his seat, “We need to look at more recent history! Go grab documents from around World War One. I’ll grab World War Two…”

He paused smiling at her with excitement in his eyes, “If you can think of any other major conflicts that might have led to the accidental discovery of the tunnels, let’s pull those documents too – maybe the Napoleonic Wars?” 

She rose from her seat returning his smile, “No, there weren’t any major battles around here from that timeframe, but assuming we don’t find anything with the great wars, I have a few ideas.” Hurriedly they both took off in opposite directions into the archive.

When they returned to their workstation, they each carried stacks of books that were almost too tall to see over. They spread the numerous documents, manuscripts, and maps over three different tables, looking for any mention or discovery of an underground tunnel system in the Eldenberg. 

As they neared the last of the books that they had brought over, the day was beginning to grow old, the large archive dimming as the golden light from the windows began to fade. Both Danni and Carlsson were beginning to get anxious, hoping they hadn’t been wasting their time with chasing a ghost. It was then that Danni stumbled upon a curious footnote in a surveyor’s records dating back to the end of the Second World War.

“Listen to this Kai,” she said, beginning to read from the book, “After the bombing and artillery barrages of allied forces in late 1943, the German encampments in and around the city of Eldenberg surrendered. The town was badly damaged, and the shelling had torn open a large opening in the ground revealing an underground network just beneath the streets of the city. See appendix A.II.”

She flipped to the mentioned appendix where she found a small hand drawn map of the tunnel system. It seemed as though maze of winding subterranean passages had been discovered purely by accident, never fully revealed to the public then once more forgotten at the end of the war. The map was well charted and annotated. The tunnel system had been drawn under a fairly accurate sketch of the surface buildings and streets of the city above.

“Look!” she motioned for Carlsson to come join her in reviewing the document, “I think I’ve found the map that we’ve been looking for!” He quickly stopped what he was reading in order to examine the aged and yellowed document Danni had surfaced. 

The slightly worn map showed that there had been only four entrances to the underground system, each of the different entrances spaced out around the city. One tied to the catacombs of the old cathedral, while another surfaced at the base of the old city wall. The third entrance, curiously, appeared to be well hidden in the basement of the city’s main government building, potentially sealed off by more recent construction and renovations. The fourth entrance appeared to be in an alley not far away from the archive. The map noted that this particular entry into the system was discretely hidden away under an old grated sewer cover.

Carlsson pulled his phone out of his pocket, and turned it on, ignoring the chimes of missed calls and unread text messages. “I have more battery than you do, so let’s use mine to navigate down there,” he smiled taking a picture of the document. Excitement coursed through his veins. Danni didn’t have the heart to tell him about her near perfect memory, and let him go ahead and snap the picture.

Though she didn’t express it, and intentionally tried to bury the outward appearance of it, Danni was concerned, both about their trip into the tunnels and the danger they continued to place themselves in by digging deeper into this mystery. With each new clue they drew closer to The Order and the secret they were willing to kill to protect. Such digging had already almost cost them their lives, much as it had Sebastian and Duncan. If it hadn’t been for a miscalculation on their pursuer’s behalf, then they very well could have been captured or killed that morning.

In an effort to hide her angst, she tenderly returned Carlsson’s anxious smile. “I think we should try to make for the tunnels around night fall,” she reasoned, “We can try to keep a watch through out the afternoon to see if we’re being followed. If we do happen to have one it will be easier to lose them in the dark. I don’t really want to encounter anyone down there.”

They each stacked their books once again and carried them back into the archive, returning the multitude of documents and text to their appropriate locations should they be needed by others for any further research. Before taking their leave of the location, they took a moment to enjoy its beauty. As they exited into the streets, they were both slightly anxious; both hoping the evening would provide them both with a sense of closure.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun had begun to makes its afternoon decent in the clear blue autumn sky, as the pair sought a decent café to grab a small meal, and whereby they could pass the rest of their afternoon and evening with conversation and people watching. It had been a relatively exhausting and taxing day in its own right, though they both knew that what awaited them was far larger than anything that they had seen thus far. It both fascinated and scared them.

The restaurant they settled on had a quaint terrace filled with numerous tables, inside it had a spacious yet cozy dining room. At Carlsson’s insistence the two chose to dine outside. He reasoned it would be a shame to spoil such a beautiful autumn day with stress and strife, which had been their only other release thus far. 

The food was pleasant and the atmosphere seemed far removed from all that they had experienced since arriving in the village, though in reality is was just a matter of steps from where they had first stumbled upon the fresco in the cathedral. Couple’s strolled past their table arm in arm, business men rushed around along the street, mother’s with baby carriages strolled casually down the road, while other people simply scurried along their way. All the while the two kept a sharp look out around them for anyone that might be looking to keep a fairly close eye on them.

After their small meal, hand in hand, both Danni and Carlsson began a casual stroll through the town’s many winding maze of streets, occasionally stopping to take a few moments to browse through shops, visit with street vendors, or pay homage to the numerous different statues that marked their path, each one holding a special place in the town’s tumultuous history.

Throughout each brief stop Danni would carefully survey the crowd and scene around them, though anyone watching would have barely noticed she was looking. She diligently strained to recognize familiar faces or for people who seemed out of place in their surroundings. Although with each stop she failed to notice anything unusual or of any concern. She masked it well, but deep inside she was uncomfortable, feeling much like a caged bird. Her stomach had been knotted with tension since leaving the café. With each move they made she felt tracked, watched, and violated. Though she was unable to put a finger on it, each pause seemed to be yet another closer to confrontation and capture than had the previous.

They had wandered the town’s many streets and alleys for sometime, and the sun had settled low in the early evening sky, as if it were preparing to dip behind the ominous mountains to the west. A warm breeze had begun to wind its way through the narrow streets of the town. As evening began to approach, the village’s crowds began to dissipate, each street and market beginning to calm and empty for the day. With each passing moment fewer and fewer people filled the historic lanes, and yet Danni felt more and more confined than she had before. The busier the streets were then the harder it would have been to confront them, yet now, with each street more deserted than the next, it would have been especially easy to corner them.

She shuffled both unconsciously and nervously on her feet as they turned down one of the many alleys they had already passed on several occasions. She took a subtle glance over her shoulder, as she had done many times throughout the afternoon. Still nothing. Her nervousness was beginning to get the best of her, though she knew ultimately it would keep them both safe.

Unfortunately it wasn’t long before her paranoia was realized. As they weaved their way through the many back alleys of the city, a group of men began to follow them. It wasn’t just a group of two or three, but rather four. Each of the men were dressed in an expensive and well-tailored designer suit. Their shirts were unbuttoned at the neck. They had each recently shaven their head, as the sun had not yet had to opportunity to render the area tan. The sign of The Guardians had been tattooed prominently on the left of their skulls. With each turn the two took, the men followed, never getting too close, yet never falling too far behind.

Without attracting their attention Danni made Carlsson aware that they were in fact being followed. With a glance over his shoulder his heart rate immediately spiked and beads of sweat began to form on his brow. He gripped Danni’s hand tightly, hoping she would know what to do.

Danni took over the situation, ensuring that Carlsson knew she was in control. With each corner their paced quickened. The men continued to keep pace, and though they knew they had been spotted, they failed to take the offensive. For now they were content with following. 

Danni tugged gently on Carlsson’s hand, drawing them aside to rest at one of the many fountains along their path. She pulled him close to her, hugging him tightly so as to assess the men behind them. With her chin resting on his shoulder she was able to look directly at the men, who had stopped about thirty yards behind them, mentally noting how they stood, who was the natural leader, and if they had any physical weaknesses that might be exploited. She continued to hold Carlsson tight. Taking a moment she looked tenderly into his eyes. She kissed him delicately before whispering commandingly in his ear, staring dead at the group of men, “Are you ready Kai?”

She could feel his cheek brush against hers nodding yes.

“Good,” she whispered, grabbing his hand tightly, “run!” She quickly turned and bolted down the street, with Carlsson following close behind. The men, having been caught off guard, began their chase a second after realizing what was happening. 

With each step Danni charted the city in her head, piecing together the many sections of the map that she could recall from glancing at it the last several days. She knew it would be nightfall in a matter of minutes, as the sun had already begun to drop below the rugged western horizon, its rays growing more faint as dark storm clouds began to build to the north and west. It would be easier to lose their pursuers once night had fallen; the challenge was avoiding capture that long. In the mean time she knew that she needed to keep them off balance, unable to neither guess nor predict their ultimate destination. 

She cut hard to her left dodging a farmer’s cart of produce, before turning sharply down a narrow side street. Carlsson followed closely as the farmer yelled indecipherably after them. The group of men became somewhat tangled with the cart before tipping it over and continuing. The slight delay had bought the two a few steps, though they desperately needed more.

At the end of the lane she jerked to the left again. Carlsson matching her step for step, keeping a sharp watch behind them as they ran. The men though never disappeared for long. Almost instantly they cut hard to the right and into another alley. 

They moved quickly between the buildings, Carlsson grabbing garbage cans and throwing them down behind him, in an effort to create an obstacle course of sorts for their pursuers. The men were unaffected by the minor inconvenience, nimbly vaulting and hurdling themselves over the debris. 

Danni yelled back at Carlsson, asking to know how far back the men were. She abruptly turned to the right down another lane, knocking a young man to the sidewalk as they passed. The duo had managed to increase their lead, but not by much. Their stalkers were now approximately forty meters behind them, not yet enough to try to begin to lose them. Carlsson sprung agilely over the boy who now lay in his path.

They darted down another alley just as the group of men rounded the other corner, having to deal with a few pedestrians who had stopped to help the young man to his feet. Yet again they weren’t delayed long, desperately scrambling to continue their chase. 

The sun had finally gone, having disappeared entirely behind the mountains. Darkness began to fall over the city. Danni again made a sudden cut to her right; Carlsson followed instinctively, his legs burning. With each step he huffed wildly in his struggle to breathe.

She glanced over her shoulder as she frantically turned down yet another alley. The men had not yet come around the previous corner. This was their chance. She spotted a small alcove along the wall, and tucked the two of them into it, before pulling a large dumpster in front of them in an attempt to ensure they were decently concealed should anyone make their way into the alley after them.

She pulled Carlsson tight against her chest, cupping her hand over his mouth, in an attempt to muffle his heavy breathing. With her other hand she pulled her Glock, her finger resting ominously on the trigger. Carlsson reached into his bag, pulling one of the pistols confiscated from the dead man earlier in the day. He flipped the safety off, holding it with two hands between his knees.

Out on the street she could hear the men approaching and stopping. Briefly they discussed their options, before splitting up in different directions. One man ran past their tight hiding spot, his footsteps splashing in the puddled water in the alley. They would have to continue to wait, as it wouldn’t be safe to for some time yet.

Both Danni and Carlsson relaxed slightly. She uncovered Carlsson’s mouth, whispering in his ear, “When we’re done with this little adventure, you’re going to need to get into better shape.” 

He chuckled under his breath agreeing. His breathing was still irregular and heavy. He turned his shoulders thanking her with his soft brown eyes. She dismissed the look, still keeping her pistol at the ready. It would still be several minutes until she would feel comfortable enough to emerge from their hiding spot. Nervously the two continued to crouch silently behind the dumpster.

With each passing minute the alley continued to grow darker and darker. The breeze began to die down, and the sounds of nature began to invade the night. The chirping of crickets danced through the streets. The songs of birds filled the evening air. The rumbling of the nearby river faintly swirled through the village. Thunder clapped faintly in the distance, as flashes of lightning could be seen illuminating the ominous clouds.

Danni tapped Carlsson on the shoulder, signaling that he would stand, ready to fire, facing their front. She would cover their rear. “On three,” she whispered quietly in his ear.

Using her fingers she began the count down. On three they both quickly jumped to their feet, their pistols drawn, the backs pressed tightly together as they surveyed their respective sections of the darkened alley.

“Clear!” Carlsson relayed.

“Clear,” Danni responded, dropping pistol to her side, Carlsson doing the same, mimicking her actions as exactly as he could.

“We’re close to the tunnels’ entrance, we’ll need to work our way another three blocks to the north from here,” she said sliding her gun back into her waistband, “Keep an eye out. I’m not sure where our group of friends may have disappeared to, but they may very well be back.” Carlsson nodded, showing he understood.

The pair made their way toward the street, peeking out in each direction before exiting the alley. They were both nervous, and their hearts raced. They had had enough excitement for one day, really wanted to avoid another confrontation if at all possible. Numerous street lamps lit the sidewalks on both sides of the deserted street, though they would need to try and stick to the shadows in an effort to avoid being spotted. They knew that they wouldn’t be able to continue to get lucky, and that it was vital that they take every precaution to avoid being seen. 

Danni motioned for Carlsson to follow her close behind. He kept diligent a look out for the men who had chased them, despite only needing to walk a few short blocks to where the tunnel system’s entrance should be. They walked quickly thought the night, Danni checking around each corner before blindly charging ahead into the darkness.

Upon reaching the appropriate alley, notable only because the buildings noted on the map had managed to survive both the two world wars and man’s desire to replace the old with new. They stood as a testament to history and to time. The narrow alley was dark and deserted; their footsteps seemed to echo loudly off the large stone buildings.

They worked their way along the wall until they found a small grate, about half way down the alley, barely large enough for one person. Danni knelt on one knee examining the drainage hole. The large metal cover had been sealed long ago by mortar, the same that had been used between the cobblestones of the street. 

Without looking up, she held out her hand, asking Carlsson for the large knife. She ran her fingers around the sealed edge, inspecting it for cracks. Carlsson unsheathed the giant blade, handing it to her handle first. He kept a diligent watch on both ends of the alley, knowing that the last thing they needed was someone surprising them as they focused their attention elsewhere.

Carefully Danni used the knife to chip away at the rock hard mortar. With each chunk that broke off, it became easier to break away the next piece. It took her only a few long minutes to work the grate free from its seat. Laying the knife aside she gripped the wet metal tightly, jerking it out from its hole. From her bag she removed one of the flashlights that she had bought earlier in the day, and examined the interior of the space sticking her head into the hole to gain a better view. Lightning flashed, lighting the black sky to the north.

“Well,” she paused, “it doesn’t make any sense to stay up here and exposed.” She tossed the light to Carlsson, and pulled the second from her bag. “Let’s see what we can find, eh?” She flashed a nervous smile in his direction, though he could tell a part of her was excited.

They both drew their weapons, holding the pistols tactically, both the light and weapon clearing the way in front of them. Danni dropped into the hole first. It was shallow, only about five feet deep. She ducked and made her way into the tunnel. Carlsson followed; reaching back he pulled the grate back over the hole, covering it again in order to mask their movements.

The passage, though short, was unexpectedly wide. It appeared to have been built to pass as a drainage tunnel to the untrained observer, though about shoulder height about twenty-five meters from the entrance there were several large rings bolted to the cobblestone wall. They were designed to hold torches, and light the path. The ground sloped severely toward their front, leading deeper and deeper underground. After another twenty meters the height of the tunnel expanded allowing the two to walk without being hunched over uncomfortably. The floor of the passage began to level out. Danni guessed they were about thirty feet below the surface streets.

The moss covered cobblestone walls were damp with water draining through the soil, though the floor had been crafted to allow for the water to drain into small ditches to the left and right of the pathway. Metal works helped to ensure that those navigating the tunnel couldn’t suddenly step into the shallow water, preventing both injury and embarrassment. The tunnels were dizzyingly dark and disorientating, and each step echoed through the tight spaces. The cold air was musty and stale, each breath was a struggle. Every few hundred meters a ventilation shaft had been cut to the surface, a cold breeze always blowing down from above.

It wasn’t long before they came to the first intersection of tunnels since entering the subterranean system. Danni checked the left branch; Carlsson focused his attention on the right. Both were dark and empty. They stood still for a moment, trying to remain as silent as possible, hoping they might be able to hear if anyone else was present in the sinister labyrinth. They were greeted with silence in return.

“Which way?” Carlsson called softly over his shoulder, keeping his light trained down the length of the tunnel.

“If we go this way we’ll eventually run into the underground catacombs of the cathedral. If we go that way we’ll hit a few more intersections before running out of tunnel at a series of large chambers.”

Carlsson considered the options for a moment, “I’m not sure about you, but I’d prefer to avoid the catacombs at this hour and in the dark.” 

“Agreed,” Danni conceded, spinning around quickly and making her way past him, retaking the lead. Her light darted left and right as the walked, illuminating every small alcove they approached. 

For her the stress continued to grow with each step forward, causing her to fall back on her military training. Her heart raced inside her chest, pounding wildly against her ribs. She had experienced a situation not entirely dissimilar to this in her time in Afghanistan. It was a story she kept to herself, and one that she had never told shared with anyone. That experience had stuck with her; she had failed her partner that day, and he had paid the ultimate price for her mistakes. Though his selfless sacrifice had saved her life, she hadn’t forgiven herself and still lived with the guilt of his death bearing down on her shoulders.

With each new intersection of tunnels they reached, they cleared the passages with their lights, stopping momentarily to listen for the telltale sounds of footsteps or talking. With each pause they were welcomed with nothing but darkness and silence. Occasionally the dripping of water would bring the tunnel to life.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking through the darkened tunnel they reached its end, a large circular antechamber. The roof rose high above the floor, and six large chambers branched off around the outside of the circular room. Each of the rooms had a large arched stone entrance, and a large chandelier hung from the arched ceiling, hanging directly below a final ventilation shaft cut to the surface. In the middle of the room, a small podium held an unidentified skull, the faint moonlight from above cast its rays eerily upon the macabre idol. The bone had been bleached white with age, and there was a small hole in the right temple, slightly higher than the eye.

“I don’t like this Kai,” Danni started, her voice low and uneven, her light moving from door to door. “We need to clear each of these rooms before we can look around.”

“You go left, and I’ll go right,” Carlsson responded.

Danni nodded in agreement, before quickly, but silently, making her way toward her first room. She took a position with her back against the arch, waiting for Carlsson to get into place. 

Though Carlsson had never handled a gun before that morning, he now executed each move with precision, having imitated Danni’s every move throughout the evening. 

Carlsson nodded toward Danni, and they both entered their first rooms simultaneously, their lights darting from corner to corner, their eyes scanning the darkness for movement.

“Clear!” Carlsson called. Danni responded a moment later with the same.

Both spun back into the chamber heading for their second rooms. For the second time, and with clockwork precision, they entered, their flashlights slicing through the darkness. Again each called to the other assuring them the room was empty. And again they moved into the center room as though they had been a team that had trained together for months. 

Clearing their final rooms they met again in the center chamber. For the first time since entering the eerily claustrophobic tunnel system they dropped their guns to their hips, using only their lights to look around. In their rush to clear each of the rooms, they both admitted at having failed to notice any real differences between them. Barely being able to recall what each room might have held.

Starting on the left they made their way into the first room. It was relatively empty, containing only a single table and chair. Each of the walls were barren, save for the far wall across from the archway, upon which several knotted flogs, paddles and whips hung. Two swords stood leaning in the corner of the room, their blades crossed. Thick clouds of dust filled the air. 

Making their way to the second room, they found it filled with three chairs and several tall and narrow wooden boxes. Each of the crates had a large hinged top, and had been laid flat, stacked in multiple groups with eight or nine boxes to each group. Each box had been elegantly labeled, with a small brass tag, each tag had been engraved with a sort of organizational code containing a name and four numerals. Moving deeper into the room Danni and Carlsson began to inspect each of the crates more closely. Several of the boxes had the names of renowned painters written on the wood, while others bore names that neither seemed to recognize. 

Prying a few of the crates open they pulled pieces of art from the each of the different packages. Each piece had been kept in meticulous condition. The back of each of the ornate frames had been labeled with the same markings that had been engraved onto the tag of the crate that held it. Although initially there seemed to be no real pattern to the ordering, it soon became more obvious it was a system designed to account for where the piece was from. Danni gasped as Carlsson pulled a wonderful piece from its case. It was one of the many still lost lost Monet’s. 

“This is all art thought to have been stolen and destroyed by the Nazi’s in World War Two,” she explained, thinking out loud. Trembling as she supported the painting with one hand, and examined it with her flashlight. “It has to be.”

The two were overwhelmed with confusion, each crate, each piece of art raising more questions than it could answer. The two quickly counted the boxes, taking a brief mental inventory of the room. There were approximately seventy-two in all. 

Taking a moment to collect their thoughts they slowly made their way to the third room. Before entering they paused, listening intently for signs that someone might be in the tunnels. Once again silence was all there was to be heard. 

 

The third room, though mostly empty, again held several of the same crates as they had found in the previous room, though here there wasn’t quite as many of them. Danni took a quick count of the boxes, noting to Carlsson that there were thirty-three of them. 

They didn’t waste anytime browsing through the art and made their way to the fourth room. It had been set up as an office. A large desk, covered in several stacks of paper, sat facing the entrance to the room. Two large leather chairs sat empty in front of it, their backs facing the archway. Several large candelabras filled the room, used wax having built up around their bases. Two narrow bookcases stood against the walls, each having been filled with books, artifacts and the tools of organized occultism. 

Danni tugged at Carlsson’s sleeve, motioning towards the next room. From the antechamber they once again paused to listen for any motion in the subterranean lair, nothing, just silence. Entering the fifth chamber, it was slightly larger than the others, and had been filled with numerous large locking trunks. Each being of a different size, color, and build. Large padlocks sealed a majority of the containers, ensuring only those allowed could see inside. Carlsson wandered around the room and amongst the different chests, grabbing one by the handles, trying to move it. He strained, with his effort to lift the case from the ground. Its weight rendered it immovable by one man. 

Shining her light from one chest to the next Danni noticed a pair that hadn’t been properly locked. She wandered over, lifting one of the lids. Shining her light inside for a quick peek. She gasped with surprise as the several large reflections of light bounced around the room. Carlsson rushed over, quickly joining her, his reaction similar to hers. 

The trunk had been split down the middle. On the left several bars of gold were stacked neatly. On the right side, jewels had been sorted and classified by both type and size. Opals, diamonds, amethysts, and garnets shone brilliantly under the focused light of their hand torches. Danni ran her fingers through one of the bins of gems, gathering a few stones in the palm of her hand to examine them.

“Surely each of these chests aren’t all filled with gold and jewels are they?” she uttered quietly to herself, but loud enough for Carlsson to hear, overwhelmed by what she was looking at.

Carlsson reached into the case, plucking a large diamond to examine. Spontaneously without reservation he tucked the stone in his pant’s pocket. Turning to Danni, “There are millions of dollars worth of jewels and gold here.”

For a moment the two stood mesmerized by the sheer quantity of stones and precious metals. Again, snapping from their trance, they took a moment to take a quick inventory of the room, counting the trunks.

When they entered the sixth room they realized had been set up as a library, containing the internal documents for the organization. Historic documents, texts, and books filled each of the shelves lining the room. A few small chairs were scattered throughout the room, offering those interested in reading an opportunity to rest their legs.

Carlsson walked over to one of the shelves, pulling a thick leather bound book from the case. Taking his flashlight in his lips, he flipped the heavy manual open, to find it was a historical ledger. Each page was filled with the names of members, their date of induction into the society, and the names assigned to each for use to mask their true identity. It was a rare glimpse into the history and development of an organization that so little was known about, an organization that had no problem killing in order to keep their secret.

Each entry had been hand written, the earliest pages dating as far back as 1701, though the book had been filled long ago with the final entry having been dated as 1961. Several members had had the initials D.M. scrawled next to their names. Upon reading the initials, Carlsson was immediately pulled back to earlier in the day and the text messages he had received, I am the Dark Monsignor, he recalled.

As they stood in the library, the could hear voices begin to make their way down the dark tunnels, only to be followed shortly by several men’s heavy footfalls. Danni switched off her torch and drew her pistol again from her waistband, Carlsson quickly followed suit stuffing the book haphazardly in his bag and drawing his firearm. The two crouched precariously on each side of the arched entrance to the now darkened room. 

Peeking out into the foyer the skull sat illuminated by the moonlight filtering down from the shaft above. The voices steadily grew louder, and the flicker of fire from their torches beginning to bleed down the tunnel and into the center chamber. 

Danni’s mind raced as she tried to analyze the situation they now found themselves in. This was exactly the situation she had feared the most – trapped in the maze of tunnels, and outnumbered. She gripped her weapon tightly, while mentally she ran through a list of their current assets. It was an extremely short list; really their only advantage was that of surprise, as they currently hid undetected in the library.

After what felt like an eternity a group of men, the same that had chased them through the streets just an hour earlier, entered the room. Each man carried a lit torch, and the warmth quickly radiated throughout the space. They carefully placed each of their cast iron torches in several holds mounted to the stonewall around the room. 

The men gathered shoulder to shoulder in front of the skull, kneeling respectfully, before placing their foreheads on the floor. One of the men began chanting softly, the others responding in perfect harmony. Their ritual took a few minutes, though it seemed much long to Carlsson as he knelt nervously in the shadows. 

When the men finally wrapped up their prayer and rose to their feet, they bowed once, respectfully, toward the skull, and then made their way into the first room that Danni and Carlsson had inspected. Each man ritualistically removed their suit jackets, followed by their shirts. Each of their backs bore the scars of numerous past failings. They each selected one of the many flogs or whips before finding a private space away from the rest of the other men. 

The sound of leather slapping violently against bare skin began to echo throughout the many chambers. With each horrific smack Carlsson jumped slightly, quickly becoming uncomfortable. Sneaking a quick glance out from behind their cover, he could see across the vestibule and into the first room, the light of the torches just barely illuminating the now bloodied back of one of their pursuers. 

Danni signaled to him, pulling her pistol to eye level. She rose from her crouch and slowly began to enter the antechamber. She hoped the men would be distracted long enough with their self-flagellation to allow them to slip away unseen. Her pistol was trained on the first doorway, and her eyes scanned violently from side to side as she moved.

Carlsson rose, mimicking Danni, holding his gun at the ready. He began to move into the central room, not realizing his bag had become entangled with one of the many candelabras that filled the room. The large wooden rack crashed uncontrollably to the floor, the violent clatter slicing through the maze of tunnels. 

Neither of them flinched, nor allowed themselves to become distracted by the deafening noise. Instantly they were standing face to face with the group of bloodied and shirtless men. Each side stood staring down and sizing up the others. The men instantly realizing that they had been handed a gift. The lead henchman began to smile sadistically toward them.

Danni had managed to make her way about halfway to the exit before their presence had become known. She now stood with her back to the tunnel. Carlsson edged closer to her side, the two of them looking down their sights. 

“Don’t move,” she said sternly, drawing laughs from the four men who began closing in tightly toward them.

“You don’t scare us,” the most senior of the group snarled, his accent thick and heavy. “The best you could do is kill us, it’s a fate we’ve all already embraced,” he motioned to the other men around him.

“Don’t think for a minute I’m not willing or capable of pulling this trigger,” her tone was both unflinching and calculated. The four men were now no more than six or seven meters away. She and Carlsson now stood side by side, their guns trained squarely on the men. Without warning she fired, three shots, each intentionally missing just above their heads. The men ducked momentarily, providing the two just enough of an opportunity to dart down the lone tunnel leading from the room. 

They ran in darkness, neither willing to turn on their light, for fear of revealing either their position or direction. Adrenaline coursed through their veins, their eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. It had started to rain over the village, the draining water turning each ventilation shaft they passed into a waterfall.

The men scrambled for their torches, and grabbed any semblance of a weapon they could find. They each took off individually after their targets not wanting to allow them to escape again. They yelled directions back and forth at one another, their deep gruff voices bounding off the walls of the narrow passageways, echoing throughout the entire subterranean system.

Danni sprinted, a few paces behind Carlsson; she could here the shouts coming from behind them, with each step they grew louder and louder. She knew their best chance for escape would be back through the entrance from which they had originally come. She pressed, rallying herself, reaching deep inside and mustering what strength she could in order to overtake him as they ran. Finally she drew even with him, grabbing his shirt firmly. 

“Right!” She yelled loud enough for their pursuers to hear, jerking Carlsson hard to the left, and down the tunnel from where they had entered. Her gun was trained on the intersection behind them. She knew it had been a desperate attempt at trying to buy them time, though if they were lucky they might gain just enough time to slip out into the alley and disappear, their pursuers never quite knowing where they had slipped away to.

As she glanced over her shoulder she realized that the desperate trick didn’t work nearly as well as she had hoped, though it was able to buy them a few precious seconds. Carlsson closed in on end of the tunnel, ducking low as the height of the ceiling began drop. 

Because Danni was looking over her shoulder trying to gauge the distance of the men, she failed to notice a small step-up in front of her. She tripped. Her body flew forward, uncontrollably, through the air, and tumbling against the hard stone floor. For a moment she lost control of her pistol and it clattered ahead across the rocky floor. She crawled hopelessly after it. Carlsson, realizing what had happened, stopped and kicked it back in her direction with his foot, as he struggled against the heavy metal grate. 

After a brief struggle he had managed to get the large metal cover to open, though the men were closing quickly behind them. He fired three rounds blindly down the tunnel in hopes of slowing them down. He grabbed Danni firmly by the shirt, and drug her toward their escape. Following his lead, and recognizing the need to slow the men, she too fired wildly into the flickering light. Her shots grazed one man in the arm, and struck another just above the knee. Put it was enough to buy them a few needed seconds.

Carlsson pulled Danni to her feet, forcing her up through the narrow opening. He fired again, before jumping up and pulling himself out after her. Without hesitating he, continued to command the situation, and led the way as they hastily scampered down the alley. 

Thinking quickly he grabbed a low hanging rung from one of the many fire escapes dotting the alley, and pulled the ladder down. The aged and rusted metal wailed as it lowered under his weight. The wind howled, and thunder clapped fiercely. The storm, which had been building to the north, had begun to descend onto the village, and the rain began to grow more intense. He and Danni climbed the metal staircase swiftly, ascending all three stories before the first man could make his way up and out of the tunnel’s opening. Lightning flashed across the night sky illuminating the scene below, again the thunder fiercely clapped.

The pair climbed up and onto the roof, while the three men below failed to realize that the pair had climbed above, now hiding along the roof’s edge. The group split, two men heading toward the far end of the alley, and a single thug making his way past the fire escape and into the nearer cross street. Danni sat motionless on the roof as she tried to regain her composure, as the encounter had terrified her, pulling her mind back into the war so few years ago. Her memories swelled into crescendos around her, voices calling out, pleading and begging for help. Carlsson peeked out beyond the edge of the building looking onto the alley below, watching the men as they disappeared into the darkened streets. Carlsson motioned to Danni, and they began to make their way across the red tiled roofs. They would need travel several blocks before coming to the next cross street, where they could climb back down and into another alley. They moved slowly, ducking with each flash of lightning hoping it hadn’t caused their pursuers to catch their silhouettes along the skyline.

Carefully they made their way down the exterior fire escape, something that which had seemed to have been making a habit of over the last several days. Once again, as was always the case, the large metal structure moaned under their weight, though they did their best to move both quickly and quietly down the aging metal stairwells. Danni was the first to descend, made the small leap down into the alley. She was followed momentarily by Carlsson. They tucked their weapons into their waists just as rain began to further intensify. 

“Let’s find a hotel. We need to get off the streets,” Carlsson said commandingly. Danni agreed, in that moment glad that she didn’t need to make any of their decisions. There was a small hotel not far from them, just a matter of blocks, and they would do their best to make there without being seen – using the shadows and rain to their advantage. They had spent the better part of the day having been chased or struggling for their lives, and it had been enough to last them both for some time.


	9. Chapter 9

The period exterior of the hotel had been brilliantly lit, shining like a beacon in the city’s historic town center. The five-story building was one of the tallest in the city, though just a few blocks away the town’s cathedral towered over it. The hotel’s bright yellow exterior was accentuated by the white-framed pane windows, which marked each many guest rooms. 

A set of large double French doors were flanked on each side by small ornamental ferns marking the hotel’s entrance. Danni and Carlsson both hurried inside of the building, and out of the, now pouring, rain. The interior of the hotel was far more elegant than the exterior would have led one to believe. A large fireplace, surround by large armchairs, warmed the main lobby, and an ornate grand staircase led patrons up toward their rooms. The reception desk to the right stood to chest height, its top a large slab of polished and veined gray marble. 

“I bet this is going to cost me a little more than our last room,” Carlsson joked, nudging Danni with his elbow, his hands jammed tightly into his pants pockets. She nudged him back playfully, and they made their way to reception. 

There they were greeted by a young woman who was more than eager to serve them, though she was somewhat visibly curious as to why they were both soaked from the rain. Within a matter of a few minutes the two were checked in for a few nights with a room on the fourth floor. Paying with his credit card, Carlsson had been right, the room had cost significantly more than the bed and breakfast of the previous few nights. They thanked the woman profusely, before making their way up the several flights of stairs.

The room was nice, though somewhat cramped, the king sized bed taking up a majority of the space. There was a small desk in the corner with small chair and ottoman opposite. Exhausted the two laid their bags on small dresser, and Carlsson climbed onto the soft and warm bed. Danni smacked him, insisting he change or at least dry off before laying down. Rain beat down against the window filling the room with a dull roar. Carlsson reluctantly made his way to the bathroom where he hung his clothes on the shower rail to air out, drying himself with a towel he returned to the bed. He flopped down in nothing but his boxers. Glancing at the clock Danni chuckled as she flushed, turning her head away out of habit. 

It was only eight forty-five, though it felt as though it were well past midnight. Her stomach growled, and she realized they hadn’t eaten since their small meal early in the evening, though at the time neither of them had eaten much. Carlsson rolled over and pecked her on the cheek before standing and taking his bag, filled with books, to the desk. Danni reached enthusiastically, perhaps even a little too much so, for the room service menu.

“I think I’m going to order some food up,” she said browsing through the menu, as she made her way toward the bathroom to change and freshen up. “This cheeseburger sounds nice. Would you like anything?” she called back to Carlsson.  
.

“I’ll take whatever you’re ordering,” Carlsson responded, already becoming engrossed in his work. He had been bothered by what they had found in the library down in the tunnel system. Questions raced through his mind, and he needed answers.

When she returned from the bathroom, she tossed the menu aside. Picking up the phone she dialed the appropriate extension, placing an order for two burgers with two sides of fries.

He pulled the leather bound ledger that he’d stolen from the library from his bag. In the light of the hotel room he was more easily able to examine it, fully read and comprehend what it contained. The leather cover was dry and cracking with age, having been exposed to the elements and never properly stored. Several of the pages were frail and brittle, and the writing had faded, though it was still barely legible. He thumbed through each of the pages scanning the names that were listed there. He made certain to pay extra attention to those with ‘D.M.’ scribbled next to their name. As he had seen in the tunnel the book was first dated August 21st, 1701. 

His mind wandered back down into the tunnels. The boxes of stolen art, and several trunks of gemstones and gold haunted his thoughts, nagging and taunting him. He remembered that Danni had mentioned that the Monet was one which had been considered to have been destroyed by the Nazi’s in the Second World War.   
On a hunch he jumped ahead toward the end of the ledger, perhaps there was something in the membership roster that would help to shed light on their discoveries from earlier that night.

Locating the appropriate place amongst the entries, he started reading through the names in the early twentieth century. He carefully read through each name, ensuring that he skipped none. His eyes scanned back and forth across each page, his mind oblivious to everything else around him. Occasionally he would scratch a name on the small hotel pad sitting on the desk. He jumped slightly when there was a knock on the door. Danni walked over and rubbed his shoulders for a second before heading to the door, grabbing a towel to cover herself more appropriately for the room service attendant. 

“Food’s here,” she called to Carlsson peeking through door’s peephole before opening the door.

He continued to work, flashing his hand slightly in acknowledgement, scribbling wildly as he read. She thanked the young server, tipping him with what little cash she had brought with her.

She set her tray down on the dresser, and his next to him on the desk. “Look at this,” he said, sliding the plate aside, and motioning toward his notes on the pad.

“Starting in the early to mid-1920’s The Order began to expand rapidly. They had been initiating new members at a rate of about one per month, slightly less actually, but starting in about December of 1924 there was a considerable upswing in membership numbers. The average number initiated rose to about ten a month. It isn’t a gradual increase either, its rather sudden, almost as if overnight. Look,” he flipped a few pages ahead in the book, “then again in the early thirties it rose even more significantly to about thirty-…” He glanced over at his notes, “Uh… thirty-three each month. And look at some of these names.”

He tossed the pad to Danni for her to read. He continued from memory, “Klaus Barbie, Herbert Gille, Goebbels, Hanns Kerrl, Himmler, Josef Dietrich, Werner Lorenz, Heinrich Müller, and even Hitler himself… The list goes on and on. Some of the most powerful men in the Nazi regime were inducted as members of The Order throughout the nineteen twenties and thirties.” 

Danni had taken a seat on the side of the bed as she read the list; she nibbled on a few fries from her plate. Carlsson continued. 

“There’s a small footnote here,” he held the book where she could see it. “They mention the revival of The Guardians of Sin. Remember what I mentioned earlier at the trailhead?”

Danni shook her head signaling she didn’t. “I had my mind on a few other things at the time.” She strained to reach far enough to grab another handful of fries from her plate.

“Right…” Carlsson was instantly brought back to their struggle in the cemetery, his stomach knotted slightly again. “Well, as I mentioned then, I don’t know much about The Guardians, other than that there was substantial evidence that they had disbanded or simply died out in the mid nineteenth century. This document proves they did, or rather it proves that the organization was revived around the same time all of the Nazi officers began joining The Order. It also notes that Order Minister Himmler would be in charge of the redevelopment of the secret group of highly trained and brutal killers.”

All the pieces began to fall into place, and Danni began to understand exactly what they had stumbled upon. “Himmler would have modeled The Guardians after the S.S. They would have been a sort of ultra-secret police,” she interrupted.

Carlsson nodded, leaning back in his chair, the revelation was somewhat overpowering. “This wasn’t, isn’t, just some fringe occult group any more Danni. It was reborn as a group of highly skilled men the Nazis were going to use once the war came to an end. A group they could use in order to maintain their control over each of their conquered territories, instilling fear in the populace. The men we’ve been facing are all a part of that same history. Without knowing it Sebastian had stumbled one of the largest caches of Nazi money in all of Europe. He just hadn’t quite yet been able to put the pieces together. Somehow The Order found out and decided it was time to take action...” His voice trailed off, and his head began to hurt as questions began to swirl in his mind, though for now they would have to wait.

Danni tossed the notepad back on the desk, focusing her attention back on the dinner she’d left sitting on the dresser. She hadn’t intended to let her burger get cold, though she was hungry enough to eat it. She took a large bite, carrying the burger in one hand, walking over to where Carlsson had been working. 

“What do we do now?” she asked, still chewing some of the burger. “We found the stash of art and gems. The Order isn’t just going to keep them there, they’re going to need to move everything.” She took another bite.

Carlsson nodded, biting his lip as he so often did. Without an answer he shrugged. “They had several of their men on the police staff, they might not be worried about it being reported. They have the means and resources to keep it quiet,” he thought out loud, “They might not feel the need to move it if they can get us out of the way quickly enough.” Danni nodded, thinking through the points that he made.

“I’m not really hungry anymore Danni,” he motioned to his plate, “feel free to have some of mine. I haven’t showered in a few days and it’s catching up to me. I’m just going to freshen up a bit.” He rose, tossing his pen on the table and walking toward the bathroom. She understood, probably better than he thought she did. 

She wandered back to the desk and began flipping through his notes with her free hand. There was a lot of speculation in everything he’d put together, yet it all made sense, and bringing clarity to the rather muddy situation. The question that now bothered her most was that of who currently sat at the center of this web of murder and bigoted hatred. Though they now had a motive, a reason, some sort of understanding, they still didn’t have a name. And until they had that nothing would change. They would continue to be chased until they were either caught or killed.

Danni could here the shower running as she took the last bite of her dinner. She lay down on the bed and began to let her mind wander. She’d always been oddly drawn toward Dr. Carlsson. He was only a year or so older than she was, and charmingly charismatic. She’d worked especially closely with him over the last year as she pursued her doctorate. They’d spent several late nights together in the library or in his office discussing her progress and the state of her research, though they had always acted strictly professionally. He was always forcing her to think creatively and in ways she hadn’t ever before; she liked that, the challenge and the drive he instilled in her. 

But something had changed over the last several days. Their trip on the train, their spending time together outside of the university, somehow there had been a spark. A spark that had enveloped her, catching fire in her soul. She reasoned that it had always been there, though she had never given it the opportunity to become a flame. 

The water shut off in the bathroom, and a moment later Carlsson exited. He wore only a towel, and dried his hair with another. Danni was still lost in thought on the bed, an arm covering her eyes. 

He smiled playfully, tossing the second towel at her. It landed square on her face, and she jumped slightly with surprise. When she sat up she was greeted by his coy smile, and she blushed immediately at the sight of him. He retrieved his shirt and canvas pants from the bathroom, and laid them across the empty luggage rack hoping they would dry before the morning.

“After a day like today, I could use a drink. How about you?” His smile causing butterflies in her stomach. 

“Only one,” she quipped tossing the towel back at him. He snatched it out of the air before dialing for room service. He ordered a bottle of wine, one he had seen on the menu and was particularly fond of. 

She came around the bed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself tight against his back. Her chin rested on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers. His hand caressed her arm.

It wasn’t long until again there was a knock at the door and the muffled call of room service. Danni, covering herself in the wet towel, went to answer the door, taking a peek through the peephole, while Carlsson took a quick glance over his notes.

Having retrieved the bottle, Danni poured them both a generous glass of the red wine, as Carlsson sat with one leg on the table. Sheepishly she brought him his glass and they toasted. The wine was sweet and dry.

“When this is all over you’re going to need to find another doctoral advisor,” Carlsson mused. Danni glanced in his direction, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

“It wouldn’t be professional for a student and advisor to be together in any capacity other than for that of research and education, professor and student,” he continued in a joking manner while smiling, “assuming of course you’d still be interested in pursuing something between us outside of the university.”

Flushing, Danni was speechless. She could only nod and smile, shyly taking a sip of her wine. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She could get use to this she thought. It’d been a long time since she had had a relationship of any kind.


	10. Chapter 10

The night’s storm had cleared, and the morning’s light crept through the white curtains, despite their having been drawn. Danni and Carlsson lay intertwined beneath the sheets of the expansive bed. An empty bottle of wine, and two half filled glasses sat on the nightstand. 

Carlsson stirred, yawning he shaded his eyes from the light. The clock on the nightstand said it was seven thirty-four. Immediately his head flopped back onto the pillow, and he ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. He hadn’t slept well and it showed. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes.

Every time he had closed his eyes he’d been haunted by the empty lifeless face of the man he’d killed. With each attempt to sleep he saw the sadistic longing in the smile of their pursuers below in the tunnels. He’d tried to reason it was either them or him, though it hadn’t helped him to rest peacefully. The last several days had been extremely taxing, and he had begun to feel it, both mentally and physically.

Danni rolled over, pulling him close. “Its too early to be getting up. Just lay here awhile with me,” she whispered groggily.

“Only because it’s you,” he tiredly replied kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on the beauty in the world. Slowly he began to drift back to sleep.

He could feel Danni get out of bed, hearing the shower turn on. Again he glanced at the clock – nine fifty-seven. It had felt like it had only been a moment ago that he’d closed his eyes, not two and a half hours. He forced himself awake, perching on the side of the bed. 

For a moment he just sat there enjoying the warmth of the light streaming into the room. For the first time in days he felt somewhat at peace. Perhaps with a little luck it wouldn’t be long until they would be returning home.

He made his way over to the luggage rack, grabbing his clothes, examining if they were dry. He was pleasantly surprised, and began to dress. His stomach rumbled as he pulled his shirt over his head, and he decided it would be nice to surprise Danni with breakfast. He grabbed the phone, dialing room service.

“Uh, hi, yes… I was hoping to order two of the breakfast specials… Um scrambled please – room 503,” he said into the phone. 

“Perfect thank you,” smiling he hung up. He continued to get ready, whistling softly to himself as he read through his notes one final time. 

It wasn’t long before there was a heavy knock at the door. Slowly he made his way across the room, engrossed once again in what he was reading. He answered it without even taking a moment to look up from his notepad. When he did finally glance up he was shocked to see the tall lean frame of Detective Bishoff standing in the doorway. Carlsson noticed the man’s eyes were tired. He took a step back in surprise, and the detective took advantage of the situation making his way past Carlsson and into the room.

“Professor, you haven’t been answering your phone,” the detective began, “I think it would be best if you came with me. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you down at the station.” 

“Yes of course,” Carlsson said making his way over to the desk before scribbling a quick note on his pad and placing it next to the many books that lay spread out. He pulled the decently sized gem from his pant’s pocket, and laid it on top of the hastily scrawled note. “I’m sorry about the inconvenience, but we left in such a rush I didn’t bring my phone’s charger. It’s practically dead, so I’ve had it shut off for the last few days,” he replied.

Bishoff nodded understandingly, not having been able to see what Carlsson had just written nor left. He motioned the man toward the door, and escorted him into the hallway. He closed the door gently behind himself, and they made their way toward the stairs.

When the exited the hotel room a large black SUV was waiting for them. Bishoff opened one of the rear passenger doors for Carlsson and motioned for him to climb in. He allowed him to make his way into the center seat before following. Once inside he slammed the door behind him. 

The doors locked as the SUV lurched forward and began to pull away. From behind him Carlsson heard a gun click. He immediately froze realizing he’d made a mistake, having been tricked. He sat motionless, his eyes facing forward.

“I’m so sorry Malakai,” Bishoff said softly before being struck violently from behind with the butt of a pistol. He slumped forward, the swift blow having knocked him out. Blood began to trickle from the back of his head. A second later a wild pain short through the back of Carlsson’s head, and he slumped forward much as Bishoff had.

Danni had heard a knock at the door while she showered, but had brushed it off as nothing more than breakfast. She was surprised when she made her way out of the bathroom to find that Carlsson was nowhere to be found, and her pulse quickened slightly. 

She quickly made her way to the window. Pulling the curtain aside so she could see. A black SUV had parked in front of the hotel, its engine still running. Just then two men exited the building. It was Carlsson and someone she’d never seen before. They both walked quickly side-by-side, and though that would normally have provided her some relief, she had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Once they had climbed in the vehicle quickly pulled away.

There was a soft knock at the door, and through the peephole she could see the server with two covered dishes. Reluctantly she opened the door despite wearing only her towel. She was brief, and rolled her eyes at the ogling young man. Without a word she took the two plates of food from the boy, slamming the door in his face slightly harder than she had anticipated. Walking the two plates over to the desk, she noticed Carlsson’s note and the gem he had left atop it.

I’m heading out with Detective Bishoff, he is the lead investigator in Sebastian’s death. They have a few questions for me regarding Sebastian’s murder back at the university. They’re taking me to the local police station. Meet me there as soon as you can. I didn’t want to bring this diamond with me. I grabbed it last night, and wasn’t sure it was wise to mention it to them. Keep it close at hand. We might need it.

Ignoring the smell of fried bacon and scrambled eggs, which now filled the room, Danni quickly got dressed. Grabbing her bag, the diamond, and checking her pistol she quickly took off for the station, bounding down the stairs, and rushing past the few people she encountered. 

She stopped briefly at the concierge desk, asking the man at the counter for directions on how to get to the nearest police station. After assuring him everything was alright, he printed off a set of directions from his computer. Luckily for her it was a small enough town that there was only one main station, and it was fairly close-by, only about a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. As quickly as she had stopped, she was off again and out the hotel’s front door. 

She took off jogging in the direction of the station, ignoring the puddles as she ran. The streets were once again alive with tourists and villagers going about their daily routines. The markets were again open, and street vendors called on those passing to stop and take a moment to look through the different merchandise they had to offer. 

When she arrived at the small building on the edge of the city center, there were a few official cars parked out front, but no sign of the black SUV she had seen leaving the hotel. She slowed her pace, taking a moment to catch her breath before entering the building. 

The station was neither especially large nor teaming with activity. The reception desk was small, with one man slouching behind a computer. He was surprised when she entered, and sat more upright in his chair. He straightened his badge, and pulled the wrinkles from his shirt. He unrolled his shirt’s sleeves, covering a circular tattoo on his arm, and buttoned the cuffs of his blue shirt quickly.

Danni explained the situation, and that she was there to join Dr. Carlsson and Detective Bishoff, who had travelled from out of town to locate the professor. Confusion overcame the young man’s face as he reached for his desk phone.

“Ma’am we haven’t had anyone in all day, especially not a detective from out of town,” he said dialing an extension, “are you sure this is where they were headed?”

It wasn’t long before one of the city’s own, and perhaps lone, detective met with her at reception. Exchanging pleasantries and introductions, he escorted her up to his small office on the second floor. He shut the door behind him, the pane glass window rattling slightly. He offered her a cup of coffee, which she kindly accepted. It was immediate that she regretted the decision, as the coffee was practically no stronger than water, and somewhat cold.

“Ma’am…”

“Danni,” she interrupted the officer.

“Danni, I know Detective Alan Bishoff fairly well. We actually were part of the same department before I moved up here to Eldenberg. I haven’t seen him in some time, and I am certain he hasn’t been through this office in equally as long,” he began.

“Are you certain that this, uh, Dr. Carlsson, left with Detective Bishoff this morning?”

Danni pulled the notepad from her pocket, and shared it with the inspector. She explained that the two had left while she was still in the shower, but had seen the two of them enter a large black SUV in front of the hotel before it had taken off. Her description matched that of Detective Bishoff perfectly. The man across the desk from her scratched his head perplexed, and began dialing on his phone.

He called in search of anyone on Detective Bishoff’s team that could verify his whereabouts, and what he might be up to. He listened intently on the phone, occasionally agreeing or muttering under his breath in frustrated surprise. The call was brief, but throughout its duration the color had steadily begun to fade from his rosy cheeks. The seemingly content detective was finally beginning to grasp the situation. He hung up the phone and focused his attention back on her. He beady eyes gave away his concern.

“It seems we have a little bit of a problem Ms. Iverson.” Danni didn’t like when her name was used in that way, and squirmed perceptibly and uncomfortably in her chair. 

He continued, “It seems that Detective Alan Bishoff and his family have been missing for almost forty-eight hours. The department searched his home where there were signs of a forced entry and struggle. There was some blood found at the scene, but nothing to suggest that anyone had been seriously injured.” He paused letting his words sink in. “Now, I’m not really supposed to have shared any of that information with you, but I have two missing officers of my own, and now this. Considering you’ve seen Detective Bishoff in the last half an hour, and in light of the fact that you reported two bodies that were never found yesterday, it seems like everything is converging and centering on you. That makes you our new starting point in finding all of them and getting to the bottom of this.”

Danni sat speechless in her chair, instantly beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She nodded; it was all she could do in that moment. Thoughts and questions raced through her head. She tried to plot out different scenarios – where might they have been taken, what were they planning to do with them, and, most importantly, how was she going to find them and save them.

The detective poured himself another cup of coffee, and had her start again from the beginning, imploring her to try and remember even the slightest of details. Though the detective across from her knew the situation was dire he had no idea its true breadth. In contrast, Danni knew that this had now become a matter of life and death. She also knew that the clock wasn’t on their side, and that the countdown had already begun until the inevitable, barring her being able to somehow save them. The question was now – how long would The Order keep the two men alive.

She reiterated her story to the detective, though nothing new stood out. She tried to remember minute details, though was unable to recall anything more of value. From the window in the hotel room, she’d failed to see the license plate. The SUV’s windows had been tinted, and she couldn’t tell how many people had been in the car. 

In her mind the only thing about the incident which struck her as unusual was the size of the vehicle itself. Since having arrived in the city, she’d only seen a handful of large cars, and yet none of them had looked anything quite like this one had. 

She stayed with the police for the next several hours answering their questions and explaining the connection between Carlsson and Bishoff. With each passing minute she became more and more frustrated that she couldn’t leave, that she couldn’t begin the search for Carlsson. 

It was early afternoon before the detective decided that Danni was able to leave the local police station, having provided him with all the details she could regarding the case. She felt deflated and overwhelmed by hopelessness. For a while she wandered aimlessly through the winding village streets, unsure of what exactly to do, or where to even begin her search for Carlsson.


	11. Chapter 11

As Carlsson came to, the room was dark and eerily quiet. His head was pounding, and the pain made it rather hard to think. He had been awkwardly tied to a large wooden chair. His legs were tied at the ankles to the chair, while each wrist had been secured uncomfortably to each of the armrests. The four bindings were tight, tearing into his skin with each movement he made. His clothes had been entirely stripped from his body, and he sat naked. He had never felt more exposed in his life. His memory drifted back to the three other known victims of The Order, all three had been naked when their bodies had been found. 

“Finally coming around doctor?” Bishoff’s gruff voice cut through the darkness like a knife. 

“Detective?” Carlsson asked groggily.

“You’ve been out for awhile now,” he continued, “how’s the head feeling?”

“Hurts. What the hell’s going on here?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” he paused trying to collect his thoughts, “All I know is that two days ago my family, my wife and two daughters, and I came home from an evening out. When we entered the house, we were jumped by three men in masks. I fought with one of them briefly, but when they pointed their guns at my family I froze, scared for their safety. 

“They’re holding them now. I don’t know where. All I know is that their lives depended on me helping them get to you… And for that I’m sorry doctor, but I hope you can understand. I don’t expect your forgiveness…”

“None of that matters right now. None of it will ever matter again unless we find some way out of this situation. Everything you’ve seen and heard in the last few days – Sebastian and Duncan – these are the men, the group, that ordered that those men die, and then carried out their brutal executions. And whether you like it or not that’s what awaits us. Unless of course we get out.” Carlsson whispered, yet his voice was forceful and direct.

“Do you have any idea where we even are?” he continued, trying desperately to formulate a plan in his head.

“Not a clue. I came to in this room just like you did,” Bishoff responded. Carlsson shifted uneasily in his chair. The sound of thick plastic rustled under his toes.

The creaking of aged door hinges filled the room as the door behind Carlsson opened and closed. Several pairs of footsteps could be heard crepitating against the plastic floor covering. The lights unexpectedly flicked on, and the two jerked their heads aside, closing their eyes against the painful florescent light. In that moment they were temporarily blinded, their eyes having become accustomed to the dark.

When he finally reopened their eyes, Carlsson was finally able to gain some sense of direction. The room was empty save a table with several implements off in the corner, and he sat with his back to the door. Detective Bishoff sat directly across from him about four feet away. They sat facing one another. Bishoff was also bound to his chair, and equally naked. The floors and walls had been covered in a thick industrial plastic, which now acted as a sort of drop cloth. In his mind Carlsson knew exactly what it was for. Despite the plastic it was clear that the building they were in was unusually old. It had been constructed of stone. The plaster covering the walls had begun to fall off and crumble some time ago. The floors were large stone squares, fitted together as well as could be expected considering the methods of construction that had been available at the time. The room’s entrance was a large arch; the wooden door fitting snuggly in its opening. Despite the building’s age the room had been clumsily retrofitted with electricity, the wires strung from the open beams in the ceiling. 

Glancing over his shoulder he was able to see that three men had entered the room. They were all dressed the same, black hooded robes with a red rope belt tied about their waists. Their hoods had been pulled back exposing their shaven heads. They all had matching tattoos for The Guardians on the left side of their skulls.

The men checked each of the knots binding their prisoners to their chairs, before nodding toward the one guarding the door. He turned and opened the door, signaling it was safe to enter.

Straining his neck to see who had entered, his view was blocked by one of the men in the dark robes. He turned back to Bishoff, trying to read in his expression who their visitor was. Yet his face was depressingly blank, devoid of emotion. 

The man walked up behind Carlsson, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. Instinctively Carlsson stiffened in his chair. The two hands were those of younger man’s. He wore a large ornate gold ring on his right hand. 

He continued to make his way around the two men, stopping off to the side, yet between them. Carlsson gasped, choking on his words, “Father Dietrich…”

The man smiled coyly through his thin lips at him, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His piercing ice blue eyes narrow and focused. He was dressed in a blood red cassock lined down the front in black buttons. The cassock’s sleeves fell into large black six-inch folded cuffs around his wrists. Each edge of the garment was lined in a black velvet, and he wore a black sash around his waist, the excess hanging on his left hip. The normally white clerical collar had been replaced by a black one, contrasting brilliantly against his deep crimson collaret. 

Carlsson hadn’t taken the time to really observe Dietrich in the church those few short days ago, though now his features jumped out at him. He was much younger looking than Carlsson had remembered, perhaps in his mid-to-late thirties. He had bleached white hair, which had been cut short, and a small scar across the right half of his forehead. 

“Well, well Dr. Carlsson... It’s nice to finally see you in the appropriate setting. To be honest, I was getting rather bored with our little game,” his voice even and disinterested. 

“And it isn’t ‘father’,” he placed special emphasis on the word, “only the ignorant sheep of the church are permitted to call me that… No, no, to you I am the Monsignor.” With one hand he grabbed Carlsson by the cheeks squeezing slightly, scrunching his lips together. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.” 

He turned toward Bishoff, shaking his head slightly. “Tsk. Tsk… Now what am I supposed to do with you?” Fear flashed in the detective’s eyes, a tell that wasn’t lost on Dietrich. 

“Aww, you’re scared,” he crouched before the man, bringing him eye to eye, much as a father would a child, though his intent was for more sinister. “You shouldn’t be, you know? Because whatever I decide on won’t take long.”

“Bite me,” Bishoff snapped back, drawing a swift crack to his jaw.

Dietrich rose again, “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back in a little while and we can start to really get to know each other. What do you say?” His words dripping with sarcasm, begging for a response so he could retaliate once again. The two men sat silently. 

“I can see you’re both excited. I like that!” He brushed the back of his fingers against Carlsson’s cheek. A sick smile crept across his face. He then exited the room, snapping his fingers signaling for his men to follow him.

Dietrich waited until the door was shut behind everyone before he spoke, cautiously using a tone that couldn’t be heard inside the room. “The woman, Danica, she went to the police already this morning. She needs to be taken care of tonight. Do you think your men will be able to handle her this time?” The largest man in the group of three nodded.

“Good,” he continued, “We haven’t yet had the pleasure of killing a woman. I want her to suffer. I want her final few hours to be a living hell. I want her to beg you to kill her. Do you understand?” Again the man nodded, never saying a word. 

Dietrich smiled coldly, waving for the men to leave. He turned and made his way up a cold dark stone staircase.


	12. Chapter 12

Back in the village Danni continued to aimlessly wander the streets. She still had no idea as to where to begin looking for the SUV or for Carlsson. A part of her wanted this all to be a bad dream.

Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything, having left her breakfast on the plate in the hotel. She stopped at a small delicatessen near the town’s main square. She ordered a small sandwich taking a seat near the window as she continued to desperately think of some way of locating where the men may have been taken.

As she ate she recognized the elderly proprietor of the outfitters shop they had visited the previous day. She grabbed her meal and decided, if it was alright with him, that she’d try to pick his brain. 

She walked over to his table, and reintroduced herself, asking if she could join him in his meal. He smiled warmly, motioning for her to take a seat. For the first few minutes they made casual conversation, discussing their hike from the previous day, the unseasonably warm weather, and her thoughts of the town thus far in her visit.

She entertained his questions while they ate, taking comfort in the having, at least for the moment, someone to talk with. She nibbled her sandwich quietly for a moment, thinking. “Where could these men have gone, where they would have absolute privacy,” she thought, “somewhere where they had the space to hide a vehicle and not be worried about someone stumbling accidentally onto what they were up to.” 

It was then that she had an interesting thought. There had been several seemingly abandoned estates she had seen from the trail the other day. Though she didn’t know where to start, or how to get to them, they would make a perfect location to hide away in.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of anywhere the locals consider forbidden would you,” she asked suddenly. The man looked at her rather confused. “I mean, is there anywhere around town that is considered off limits in local folklore, or to the natives of the area,” she clarified.

The man quickly nodded, explaining there were several old estates dotting the mountainsides around the village. Most of them had been owned by prominent nobility, but had been abandoned long ago. There were a few that had been restored, having been turned into luxury resorts, but there were three that were rumored to have been haunted by their former owners. No one in the village dared venture anywhere near them. He admitted his superstition, and explained he had heard enough stories to truly frighten him. Because so many avoided venturing anywhere near, the three had fallen into severe disrepair, several on the verge of totally collapsing under the strain of the harsh mountain elements.

Danni asked if he could show her on a map. He was reluctant at first, questioning why she would be interested in such places. Though he finally relented when she explained that she held a degree in early European history and that she was fascinated by such architecture and centuries old decay. That it was something she’d loved since she could remember her grandfather sitting at her bedside telling her stories of far off lands, magical castles, and happy endings. 

He agreed to show her a map of three of the more remote and derelict estates in the area, but he was clear that if she intended to visit them, it would be of her own doing, he had no interest in either getting her there nor visiting them for himself. She understood, thanking him greatly.

The two finished their meal together before heading for the man’s quaint little shop a few blocks away. The man provided her some interesting commentary on the village as they walked, pointing out and explaining the significance of several statues and buildings. Danni listened intently, always one for actively having embraced knowledge. And though she paid attention to his stories, she also kept a close watch around her. 

Throughout lunch she had had the opportunity to collect her thoughts and calm her racing mind. She realized that she’d been careless in leaving the police station so nonchalantly, not paying attention to anything around her. Having placed herself in considerable danger, she swore such a lapse in vigilance wouldn’t happen again.

When they reached the man’s shop he pulled out a slightly larger area map than she had grabbed from the train station on their arrival. He marked three ‘X’s where the run down and abandoned villas could be found. Again warning her that she should keep away. She thanked him again for the information and allowing her to spend a little time with him during lunch, giving him a hug brief hug. She folded the map and tucked it into her back pocket, waving as she left. The old man just shook his head.

None of the three estates were especially close to the city, the nearest sitting about fifteen kilometers to the north. Because she was on foot, and not wanting to potentially draw attention to herself with a car, she knew she wouldn’t have time to check all three individually. Instead she decided again to make a visit to the archive. But first she would stop by the hotel and grab everything she would need for the evening.

When she got back to the hotel it was almost three in the afternoon. She knew she only had a few hours before the sun would be going down. Once the sun went down it would be harder for anyone to track her movements. 

She began packing her bag. She stuffed her Glock 17 into her shoulder bag. Next she grabbed the two pistols that were tucked inside of Carlsson’s pack. Checking the ammunition, she consolidated the rounds into one magazine, and tossed the empty gun on the bed, placing the other next to hers in her bag. 

Walking over to the desk she grabbed the leather bound book that Carlsson had taken from the tunnel library. She leafed through it briefly shaking her head at what the man had been able to piece together from the list of names. Smiling as she remembered how he’d been hunched over the desk fervently scribbling away. 

Closing the book she slid it into her bag, pulling the curtain aside in order to glance out of the window. Not far down the street she saw the black SUV from earlier in the day drop two men off before disappearing down a side alley. 

The two men made their way rather briskly toward the hotel’s entrance. She cursed as she realized that she had been tracked back to the room. Immediately she understood that there wouldn’t be time to get to the main floor of the hotel before they did. This meant she was either going to have to confront them no matter what. 

She grabbed her bag pulling out one of the two remaining loaded pistols. She threw the strap over her shoulder, as she wanted to be prepared to run when the time came. Next she tucked herself behind the open bathroom door and waited. It wouldn’t be long until they’d be there. She cleared her mind, slowed her breathing, both techniques she’d been taught in the military to deal with the many stresses of combat. 

There were three solid knocks on the door in quick succession. She remained motionless. Again three knocks.

“Danica Iverson,” a gruff voice called out trying to sound official, “We know you’re in there. Either you answer the door or we’ll make out own way in.” She smiled at the cliché and readjusted her grip on the weapon. 

The men at the door didn’t wait long for a response, and the load crashing in of the door filled the room. Instantly she hoped that the men weren’t armed with guns. 

The men, in their haste, failed to thoroughly check the bathroom, only offering a passing glance before making their way into the rest of the room. She was considering trying to make a dash for the door when she heard one of the men direct the other to give the bathroom a more careful inspection. She stiffened with the words.

The man casually strolled into the bathroom, peeking his head behind the shower curtain. Danni sprung from behind the door using the butt of her pistol as a club, striking the man square in the back of the head. He crumbled slightly from the blow but tried to regain his balance as he leaned against the wall. She grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed his face into the hard granite countertop. With a loud crack he wailed in pain, blood gushing from his now crooked nose. It was the second one she’d broke in as many days. 

She quickly secured the barely conscious man, holding him in front of her, his arm tucked precariously high behind his back. He winced in pain, his shoulder straining to remain in place. She held the gun to the man’s temple. It had only been a matter of seconds, but she had managed to gain the upper hand.

The second man had quickly made his way to the bathroom, but now he stood in awe at the doorway. Danni motioned him back her gun, he backed away slowly and into the room. She followed carrying her human shield in front of her for protection. 

“Who sent you she demanded,” her back to the door. The man with his hands raised to near shoulder height stood beside the desk toward the front windows of the room. 

He shrugged smiling, “I would have thought by now you’d know who the Guardians were.”

“I want a name,” she demanded unflinching.

“You know I wouldn’t tell you even if I could.”

“Goddammit, I sick your fucking games!” She turned the gun from her now slumping prisoner to the other man.

He grinned even more widely, “Do it.” He licked his lips. Without notice he lurched forward grabbing the gun from the bed, not realizing it was empty, and pointed it at her. She couldn’t help but laugh at the man, which only served to upset him more than he already was. 

He pulled the trigger, nothing. He pulled again, the same result. She motioned with her pistol to drop the weapon and he complied cursing under his breath as he tossed it aside.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to give you your buddy back, seems like he might need some medical attention. I’m going to leave, walk right out the front door. Try to follow me and see what happens.”

The smirked, “Whatever you say lady.”

Rage coursed through her veins. A rage she hadn’t felt before. Violently she stomped down just below the knee on the leg of the man she was holding. A loud crack rang out through the room. With what little strength he had left he screamed in agony as she dropped him to the floor. To ensure she wasn’t chased she lowered her weapon firing one shot into the other man’s leg just above the ankle. She quickly tucked the gun in her bag, bolting from the room. She knew it wouldn’t be long until the police were called and the area was crawling with officers looking for her.

She ran wildly down the stairs, skipping steps on each flight. Confused patrons scurried to get out of her way as she ran by. She knew she didn’t have to worry about the men in the room following her and kept a close watch on everyone in front of her. 

When she reached the ground level, she darted toward the dining room, hoping whoever was looking for her would be waiting out front. She quickly made her way through the nearly empty restaurant, crashing through the doors to the kitchen. Several surprised chefs watching in amazement as she ran through the kitchen, knocking a dishwasher over, and out the loading dock exit.

Once in the alley she calmly straightened her hair and gave her jacket a quick adjustment before casually walking toward the block behind the hotel. She wasn’t far from the archive, but she’d keep a close watch on her surroundings for the rest of the day.

It didn’t take her long to get to the archive, though she had taken a somewhat round about way of getting there. The woman working the reception desk recognized her from the previous day, welcoming her back warmly. 

Danni explained that she was interested in finding out information regarding the three deteriorating estates, but that she only had the physical locations and no other information. The woman smiled and assured her that the staff at the archive would be able to help.

The woman checked her in and called for one of the resident historians to join her. Finally an older gentleman arrived and brought her back to the appropriate portion of the archive. 

Danni, explaining the situation again, spread the map on the table showing the man the three ‘X’s that had been marked by the shopkeeper. The elderly gentlemen nodded assuring her he knew the properties well. He disappeared into the rows of official documents and files. When he returned he carried a box of information in which he had piled several sets of documents. He dusted his vest off and began to walk Danni through the histories of the three estates.

He explained, “The first of the three ‘X’s, which happens to be the furthest from the city, was built in the mid-fifteenth century by an eccentric count by the name of Heinrich Von Wolfsburg. The property was abandoned by the family in the late eighteenth century after the death of their youngest daughter. Since they vacated the house it hasn’t been occupied. The deed is still in the name of the family, though it is uncertain that anyone remains to claim it.

“The second ‘X’, and second closest to the city, was an estate that had belonged to another local, and exceptionally wealthy, count. It was the newest of the three properties, having been built in the early eighteenth century. But after a series of construction mistakes, unexplained accidents, and animal deaths there was deemed to be an evil spirit dwelling within the estate. The family never moved in, and the building had sat empty since its construction. The property has changed possession many times since its construction with the current owner, a gentleman by the name of Gustav Müller, having purchased it in late nineteen-eighties.

“Now, the final ‘X’ the drawn here on the map happens to be the closest to the village. Many of the locals consider this location to be the most troubled property in the region. It had been constructed at the end of the sixteenth century by a local legend, Graf Maximilian Christoff.” Danni started at the mention of the name.

“Shortly after the estate’s completion the count led several men in battle at the behest of one of his close friends – Cardinal Contellini. He was killed in battle leaving behind his wife, a daughter and two young sons. Several years later his youngest son would also be brutally killed here in the village after moving into the estate with his young wife and newborn son. It had sat vacant for sometime until the last remaining member of the family granted permission for a small group to begin restoring the property.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of the group would you?” Danni interrupted. The man flipped through several of the construction permits that had been filed for the location, they were fairly dated.

“Um… It looks like the group managing the project was the GOS&O.”

“Is that a local company?”

The man shrugged, “Never heard of them, but there hasn’t been any permits filed in quite a while. The last one was filed almost two years ago.”

Danni leaned back in her chair scratching her head with the tip of her pen. For a few moments she sat in silence, her eyes darting rapidly back and forth between the multiple documents. 

She leaned forward looking once more at the map, “Can you tell me which of these properties are the most difficult to get to?”

The man didn’t even pause, “The Christoff Manor. It has one access road, though it’s fairly overgrown.” 

Danni pursed her lips staring at the map. “That’s where I’ll head then,” she thought to herself. She thanked the man for his incredible insight, offering to help him store the many documents he had brought that they hadn’t need. He laughed at the idea insisting it was his job.

The sun was beginning to set as she made her way toward the edge of town. It was going to be a fairly long hike up into the mountains, and the sooner she made her way off the roads the more comfortable she would be.


	13. Chapter 13

Lindolv Dietrich sat quietly at his desk, his fingertips pressed together against his lips, his eyes closed. Two of his lieutenants sat across from him. The room was filled with the music of Haydn.

One of the men tried to speak, though Dietrich cut him off with the flash of a finger, never opening his eyes. The man sat back in chair waiting. The music began to slowly soften then end entirely.

“We can take care of it,” he said, his fingers still before his mouth, his eyes still closed, “isn’t that what you told me? ‘We can take care of it’.” Again the man leaned forward to speak. “Don’t,” Dietrich cut him off before he even had the opportunity.

He rose from his seat behind the desk, walking to the nearby window. “How are your men doing?” he asked staring out into the night.

“They’ll make a recovery. One has a broken nose and a broken tibia. The other suffered a gunshot wound just above the ankle. They’ve both been released from the hospital and should be here shortly.”

“Good I want them brought here the moment they arrive. We have some talking to do.” He spun around facing the men again. “This is a mistake we can’t have made again.” He smiled, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a large decanter on his desk.

Sipping from the glass, he smiled. “Why don’t we go pay our two friends downstairs a little visit,” he mused. The men nodded, rising from their chairs.

Carlsson and Bishoff sat quietly in the dark. They had sat strapped to their chairs for hours. The room was cold; the two men would occasionally shiver, their teeth chattering. To keep their spirits up they would talk, reassuring each other that they would get out. See their loved ones again. Neither of them believed it, though it did help them pass the time, improving their spirits as much as could be expected given the situation. 

When the door opened and the lights flicked on, the two men moaned. Again they tried to shield their eyes from the sudden change in light. Just as before the three men entered checking the two men’s restraints. 

With a nod Dietrich entered. “Gentlemen. I thought I would just stop in, see if you were interested in playing a little game.”

“Where’s my family,” Bishoff snapped tugging violently at his restraints, “You said they’d be safe if I helped you get what you want! Now where are they?”

“Isn’t that cute,” Dietrich cooed kneeling next to the man, stroking Bishoff’s salt and pepper hair. “But that’s not how this game’s going to work. I’m going to get to do what I want to you once; only then you’ll get to ask your question. We’ll continue to play until you’re until you’re out of questions or unable to ask anything else.” His ghoulish smile returning.

He turned to Carlsson, stroking the man’s arm, “I’m sorry but you’ll have to sit these first few rounds out. I don’t want to spoil your fun later.”

He walked casually to the sole table in the corning, rifling through the different tools that had been laid out on its surface. The clacking of the metal sent shivers up Carlsson’s spine, though Bishoff sat as stoically has he could manage considering he knew what was coming next.

“What do you say we start with something a little more classical?” Dietrich called sadistically from the corner. He turned holding a large pair of pliers in his right hand. Bishoff didn’t acknowledge the comment, staring blankly ahead.

Dietrich knelt before the officer stroking the inside of his bare thighs as he stared directly into the man’s eyes. He grabbed Bishoff’s index finger on his right hand, the man fought as much as one could considering the bindings. Taking the pliers he carefully took hold of as much of the fingernail as he could. 

Unexpectedly and violently he jerked the pliers back, the nail ripping from the finger. Bishoff screamed in agony wrenching forcefully in his seat, blood trickled down his finger and onto the chair. 

Dietrich smiled, examining the nail in the air as he held it firmly with the pliers, “Your first question Detective.”

Bishoff writhed in pain, tears streaming down his face. He bit his lip fiercely to keep himself from crying out. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak.

“Where’s my family,” he asked again, his words choppy and clumsy.

Dietrich redirected his attention on the detective, “They’re safe. Not far from here actually. I haven’t yet decided what to do with them. Such a beautiful group of women.”

Bishoff tried to protest, but was cut off with the flash of Dietrich’s hand, “It’s not your turn… You must respect the rules Detective. Without rules we’d be no different than the wildest of beasts.”

Again he knelt, this time grabbing the detective’s index finger on his left hand. Just as he had before, he secured the nail with the pliers, and violently wrenched the nail for its bed. 

Instinctively Carlsson turned away, clenching his eyes shut as Bishoff’s screams of agony filled the small room. When he opened his eyes the detective sat shaking in his chair, his hands both covered in blood. Dietrich towered over the man, his arms folded across his chest.

“Now its your turn,” he quipped playfully. Bishoff stared up at him, his gaze filled with a mixture of rage, disgust, and absolute terror.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt them. Have they been harmed in any way?” his words barely falling out of his mouth. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, the pain consuming him.

“Oh they’re fine, a little more comfortable than you at the moment,” he chuckled, “Though to be honest I rather fancy your oldest daughter. Remind me again of her name… Hannah isn’t it? We might have to have a little chat her and I.”

Bishoff leapt against his bounds, the chair bouncing with the force.

“So much fight in this one,” he said turning to his men still standing in the doorway. “I like that. It keeps it interesting, makes it fun.” He began to make his way back to the table. “I think you’re ready for the next level, wouldn’t you agree Alan?”

As before Bishoff sat motionless. His eyes, filled with tears, staring directly ahead. They were empty, void of emotion, though his pain was evident. He bit his lip hard, his chin quivering. Carlsson felt pity for the man, knowing eventually he would face the same fate.

Carlsson could see that Dietrich had grabbed a large metal tool. He couldn’t exactly make out what it was, but he knew that Dietrich was heating it with a hand held butane torch. When he turned to face the man the metal tarnished in a light ash color. It was a cross, though Carlsson knew it would be applied upside down. 

“Don’t worry professor, we have plenty of games planned for later. You’ll get your turn, I promise,” he turned again to Bishoff, “Ready?”

He took the brand and held it over the man’s left set of ribs; close enough for him to feel the heat. Bishoff’s eyes screamed and his body drew tense. Without warning the brand was thrust into his ribs, the sound of searing meat being drown out by the cries of terror. Dietrich held the implement in place for several seconds before removing it in order to inspect his work. The upside down cross had been perfectly seared onto the man’s ribs. It the mark itself boiled slightly, the skin the color of oiled and aged leather. The air filled with the nauseating smell of burning flesh.

Despite the iron having been removed, Bishoff cried out in pain. His head pulled back, he struggled against his binds. Again tears flowed in steady streams down his cheeks.

Dietrich, rather annoyed by the man’s wailing, returned the iron to the table, first dunking the still smoking end in a large bucket of water. Steam rose from the bucket, the metal cracking and popping as it cooled.

After a few moments Bishoff calmed, though it was clear he was in utter agony. The Monsignor knelt at the man’s left arm, gently blowing and stoking the fresh burn. “Your next question,” he smiled looking up into the man’s eyes.

“Why?” That’s all he said, the question short and blunt.

“Why do we do anything?” his words dripping with sadism. He could hardly control his delight. He stood, running his fingers through the man’s now wet hair, having been drenched in sweat as he sat trying to control his pain.

Leaning in he whispered tenderly in the detective’s ear, “Because I can, because it makes me happy.” He walked briskly back to his many tools, selecting a set of two large iron thumbscrews, and a set of brass knuckles. He slipped the knuckles in his pocket and began to loosen the device. 

“There’s nothing quite like a the sounds of bones cracking, so arousing! You should be so lucky!” He slid the two devices over Bishoff’s thumbs despite the struggle the man gave him. Bishoff fought to suppress his severe, pain though Dietrich could tell the man was suffering greatly.

Slowly he began to tighten the left screw. The pain built gradually, Bishoff biting his tongue trying not to give in. His thumb grew red, then purple. Despite his every effort it wasn’t long before the pressure on his thumbs, in combination with the rest of his aching body, became too much to bear. He moaned in agony.

“I like it when you do that,” Dietrich said longingly, “please don’t stop.” He turned the screw more aggressively. The loud crack of the bone and Bishoff’s scream caused Carlsson to recoil in disgust, fighting to keep himself from being sick.

“God I love that sound,” Dietrich uttered, his longing voice faltering slightly with the words, “You’re turn.” Bishoff continued to cry out in pain. “And don’t pretend for even one moment that you don’t enjoy it!”

It took Bishoff several minutes to recollect himself, his mind ultimately winning the battle over his injured body. “When are you going to let my family go?” His voice cracked with each word, his body shaking violently.

“So many questions about your family and none about me. I’m beginning to think you aren’t having any fun detective,” he paused for a moment considering the question. “I haven’t really thought of when. I guess the only answer I have is that I’ll free them when I feel like I’m done with them.” He reached for a towel, wiping sweat from Bishoff’s forehead and cheeks. He smiled, almost lovingly, at the man.

He immediately began to tighten the second screw he had brought over. It wasn’t long until Bishoff began to grimace, for the first time pleading for Dietrich to stop. 

“Shh, shh,” Dietrich said placing his finger over the man’s lips. Bishoff tried to bite his finger, but he sensed it coming pulling his hand away quickly. In one motion he pulled his other hand from his pocket, the brass knuckles flashing in the light. With one swift strike Bishoff struggled to keep his eyes open, blood oozing from his mouth.

Dietrich slipped the tool back in his pocket, again beginning to tighten the screw on Bishoff’s right thumb. It seemed to pull Bishoff back from his confusion just in time for the bone to snap. Again Carlsson felt the urge to be sick, fighting to keep from vomiting all over himself. Bishoff howled. 

Without saying a word the dark priest walked to his table, rearranging his tools, waiting patiently for the man to overcome the initial pain. After several long moments he finally returned to the man’s side. Kneeling next to him stroking the side of his face. “Any more questions for me?”

Bishoff shook his head unable to speak, tears in his eyes. He whimpered slightly in pain, doing his best to keep from showing how truly in agony he was.

Over Dietrich’s shoulder there was some movement toward the door, and Dietrich stood. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, there is an urgent matter that requires my attention. But before I go, I have one final surprise for you, or rather our friendly detective.” He walked to the bench grabbing a thin knife, its blade perfectly polished.

He returned, grabbing Bishoff by the chin and kissing him softly on the cheek. “Because you’ve been such a good sport, I thought you could use another round of fun before I go.”

“Fuck off,” he replied mustering every once of strength he had left, spitting blood in Dietrich’s direction.

“That’s not very nice, perhaps you don’t deserve a reward at all…” He slipped the knife between the leg of the chair and Bishoff’s heel, just below where the ropes had been tied. With a quick flip of his wrist and pull of his arm he sliced deep into the man’s leg, entirely severing his Achilles tendon. Quickly he readjusted his position and preformed the same motion on the man’s other leg. The muscle shot violently up his leg, knotting, much as the other had, behind his knee. 

Bishoff howled in pain tugging violently against his chair. Dietrich rose whispering again in the man’s ear, “Enjoy my love. I’ll tell your oldest daughter hello for you. She smells so wonderful, and the total look of innocence. So irresistible, perhaps tonight we’ll change all of that. Help her to ‘mature’.” He chose his words carefully to further enrage the suffering man.

Without another word he made for the door, brushing his hand against Carlsson’s chest as he passed, exited the room, flicking off the large chandelier that lit the space. The door moaned as it closed behind them. But instead of silence the room was filled with the cursing, moaning, crying and whimpering of a badly tortured Bishoff.

In the hallway Dietrich’s assistants informed them that the two men had arrived from the hospital and were waiting for him in his office. Dietrich nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. He briskly made his way up the spiral stone staircase, and down the hall to his office. With his deputies in tow he politely asked that they wait outside. They all knew better than to protest.

Inside his office the two men stood, their weight on crutches. One wore a cast on his left leg, the other on the right. The smaller of the two men had two black eyes and a braced and bandaged nose. 

Dietrich took a seat in his large armchair behind his desk, eyeing the two men skeptically. 

“So… Which one of you wants to tell me what happened?” The two men stood silently; nervously they glanced back and forth at each other. “Well come on. Something happened and since I wasn’t there, one of you two is going to have to speak up,” he implored. Again both of the men failed to respond. 

“Hmm… I see,” Dietrich continued, “She must have beaten you both so badly that you can’t even speak. You know, I thought we were hiring the best of the best. Men who could take care of problems quietly, quickly, and without question. I wasn’t wrong in bringing you both onboard was I?”

“No Monsignor,” the two responded in unison, their eyes forward.

“Exactly,” he rose to his feet placing both hands on the table and leaning toward them. “I wasn’t wrong. I’m never wrong. Why? Because I don’t make mistakes!” His voice rose from the beginning of the sentence to the end, rising from a low frustration to an irate scream. In the hallway his men paced nervously back and forth before the door.

“Yes Monsignor,” the two responded again.

Taking his seat again, “Now which one of you are going to tell me what happened? And don’t make me ask again.” his voice returning to its lower timbre. 

“Monsignor,” the largest of the two men protested, “we were caught off guard by the woman in the hotel room. She was able to hide, catching us by surprise. We went only with cuffs, so as not to draw suspicion, but he had a gun.”

“And you?” he asked of the beaten smaller man, “How do you explain yourself? A broken nose, a broken leg. She’s a woman.”

“I was caught by surprise, attacked from behind. I didn’t stand a change,” the man replied fear and tepidness in voice. Dietrich nodded, pressing his fingers together resting them against his nose and lips.

“Please… both of you sit,” he motioned, smiling tenderly, to two chairs before his desk. 

The men graciously accepted, leaning their crutches aside. Dietrich continued, “We have a long history or precision, of instilling fear, and brutality. Did you fulfill that legacy today?” Both men shook their head agreeing that they had failed. Dietrich smiled, having expected the answer. He pulled a revolver from the center drawer of his desk, laying it out for them to see. 

The men straightened in their chairs glancing nervously at one another then back toward the gun. “Here’s the deal gentlemen,” Dietrich began again, rising from his chair, grabbing the gun, “We’re going to play a little game.” He couldn’t control himself, his sadistic smile returning to his mouth. He made his way to the front of the desk, leaning against it as he talked.

“This gun contains three bullets, one placed in every other chamber. That means there are three empty chambers and three full chambers.” He spun the cylinder.

“Now I can’t have two incompetent men on my staff, so one of you will need to ‘retire’, for lack of a better word,” he chuckled, “who want’s to go first?” Terror filled the two men’s eyes, neither of them moved a muscle let alone responded.

“Come on now, don’t make me choose. You won’t like it if I do.” Dietrich rose to his feet standing tall, he began to pace before the two of them, his eyes meeting each man’s as he passed. Still the men remained motionless and terrified. 

He taunted the men with the pistol as he paced, occasionally leveling it at one in an attempt to elicit a response. Both men, though terrified sat motionless, praying their fear wouldn’t show and betray them.

He took a seat again on the corner of the desk. He examined the revolver in his hands, turning it over. “Such a beautiful gun wouldn’t you say?” he said looking up from the weapon. “It’s been in our glorious organization since we were reborn. It’s a piece of our magnificent history.” 

He stood again, walking over to the larger of the two men, placing one hand on his shoulder. He handed him the weapon. “I need men who are able and willing to carry out my orders,” he said, “its critical to our success and our second coming.” He walked around his desk taking a seat in his chair.

“Schmidt, you’ve been an invaluable member of this team since being recruited all those years ago,” he leaned back in his chair. The men shuffled in their seats uncomfortably. 

“If you want to remain a member of this wonderful team, I need you to clean up after yourself,” Dietrich smiled callously, “Haussmann, on the other hand, here has been nothing more than an bumbling incompetent pain in my side. You were responsible for him. You were the lead on this little project of mine. Clean up your mess.”

The two men looked at each other nervously. Haussmann’s eyes plead with his counterpart. Schmidt fingered the revolver momentarily, glancing between it and his partner. He looked toward Dietrich for guidance, the man sat staring at him coldly, measuring his every move, his fingertips pressed, his lips pursed tightly shut.

The large man sighed, sliding his finger into the firing position. Haussmann begged the man to reconsider what he was doing. He looked sympathetically at the man. Leveling the gun, eyeing the sight carefully.

“I’m sorry, may god forgive us both.” He pulled the trigger, the revolver discharging violently. His partner slumped and fell to the floor, a large bullet hole in the center of his forehead. The wall behind where the man had been sitting was splattered and covered in blood. As he lay motionless on the floor Schmidt looked pitifully at the generally missing back of his head.

Dietrich smiled sadistically and began to clap, “I knew you had what it took to be part of our brotherhood.” He rose walking around to the man who sat staring at the lifeless body on the floor. He grabbed the weapon from the man’s loose grip, patting him on his shoulder in a show of admiration.

For a moment they both gazed upon the dead man laying on the floor, a puddle of blood forming around his head. Dietrich began to chuckle, softly at first and growing more robust. He made his way to his seat, Schmidt looking at him. His expression was that of confusion.

“You know,” he continued taking his seat trying to control his laughter, “I’m still not one to accept nor to take failure easily.” He gesticulated wildly with the weapon. “I still expect perfection from everyone on my staff in every task they perform. I still expect when you are given a job that its completed.” The man nodded in his chair adjusting his leg. Schmidt struggled to keep his eyes off the man who had but thirty seconds ago sat next to him. The man whose life he had just ended.

Dietrich smiled coyly, leveling the gun at Schmidt, aiming directly at the large man’s broad forehead. “And to be honest, you’ve failed me twice in the last two days. I don’t much care for that.” The man squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“How am I to know that you won’t fail the next time? How can I trust that you are committed to our great cause?” 

“I promise Monsignor, I won’t fail you again. I can promise you that. May the devil take my soul if I’m lying.” 

“Beg,” Dietrich replied coldly his voice growing cold and stern. His eyes were devoid of anything human.

“Sir, please! I’ve done what you’ve asked of me tonight! I am loyal to our cause with every ounce of my faith! I can assure you with my whole being, I cannot and will not fail you for as long as I live!” With those final words he was silenced by the loud crack of the revolver, the wall behind him becoming painted and splattered in red. He slumped back in his chair, his arms falling limp at his side. 

“I know,” Dietrich smiled tucking the gun into his desk drawer and rising to his feet. He walked around his desk, once more standing before the two men. He smiled, “I know.” He kissed the man’s lifeless body on the cheek, stroking his hand against the now lifeless face. 

Stepping over the prone and motionless body by the door he exited into the hallway where his men stood waiting, he motioned into his office “There seems to have been a little accident regarding Schmidt and Haussmann, or whatever their names were. Please ensure its cleaned up immediately. Remove anything that could identify them, including their casts and bandages. I wouldn’t want the wildlife to have to eat around it.” He smiled at them before continuing down the hall, whistling contently to himself.


	14. Chapter 14

It had taken Danni far longer to find the overgrown access road to the Christoff estate than she had wanted. She had wandered back and forth through the woods aimlessly in search of the road before stumbling finally stumbling upon it. The narrow dusty path, which was supposed to have been abandoned, showed all the signs of recent travel; large tire treads had left their unique imprint in the dirt. Her spirits instantly lifted, and she felt as though she had made the correct decision in determining where to look for Carlsson. 

The sun had set almost thirty minutes earlier, and the air began growing colder. The still evening air was eerily quiet as she fought her way through the dense forest. She walked parallel to the road, approximately twenty meters into the woods. She didn’t want to be spotted should a vehicle come travelling from either direction, though she needed it as a guide in finding the supposedly abandoned estate. 

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d been walking, though it had felt like several hours. She shivered in the cold night air, zipping her jacket more fully. Her breath clouded thickly around her. From behind she could hear the sound of a large approaching car. Thinking quickly she jumped to the ground taking cover behind a small recently fallen tree. She lay as flat, and as still, as she possibly could. Discretely she peeked her head up slightly over the log in time to watch the large SUV pass, heading toward the chateau. The vehicle’s bright headlights passed directly over her head as the car rounded one of the many tight corners.

Laying on the ground and sighing in relief, she pulled the folded map from her back pocket. Quietly she unfolded it and trying to decipher as accurately as she could, where exactly she was and how much further she still had to walk. The moon was full, shining brightly, and providing her with enough light to clearly read the map. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but trying to judge from the multiple ridges around her, she decided that she couldn’t have had too much further to walk before arriving.

She carefully folded the map, returning it to her back pocket, and climbed delicately to her feet. The hike thus far had been utterly exhausting. She wasn’t sure exactly the number of vertical feet she’d walked, but her legs were beginning to burn with each new step. The hike had been almost entirely up the sides of steep ridges providing little relief on the downhill sides. Her legs were tired, but she was mentally tough, knowing she needed to press on.

The leaves rustled under her feet as she jumped over yet another large fallen log. In her mind she just wanted to summit the ridge in front of her. From there she would have the ability to scan the surrounding valleys. She admired the clear sky as she walked, occasionally spotting one of the many constellations of her childhood.

Upon reaching the crest of the ridge, she took a moment to catch her breath, resting her hands heavily on her hips. Nestled snuggly below her in the valley she could see the outline of the shadowy figure of the estate rising slightly above the trees. Relieved she smiled, she was finally within sight of the manor.

With a renewed enthusiasm she took off again down toward the manor. Now that her destination was in sight she deviated more from the road, making straight for the sprawling and dilapidated building.

The wind picked up and the trees began to rustle. She slowed her pace significantly as she approached the crumbling walls of the estate. With each step she was more cautious as to not make any unnecessary noise. She watched carefully where she placed each step, trying to avoid stepping on the many twigs, which littered the ground.

Silently she drew her Glock, taking cover in the thick pine forest surrounding the darkened estate. She gripped the gun tactically, her palms sweating slightly. She began to carefully make her way around the exterior of the building, still staying deep in the woods. Her eyes were peeled for any sign of movement, scanning the building diligently. Her heart raced as she moved.

Coming around the northwest corner of the building she could see the large black SUV parked beside a small entrance to the building. It had been propped open with a large log. The doors to the rear of the vehicle were open, the lights illuminating the inside. 

As she watched two men exited the building. They were awkwardly carrying a naked body. One man held the man by the ankles, while the other had his hands tucked under the man’s shoulders. The body’s arms hung limp, its fingers occasionally scraping along the ground. It was clear to her he was dead; it was something she’d witnessed before. She strained to try and identify who it was, but the body’s head had been covered with a large brown burlap sack. Her heart sank as she watched.

The two men swung the body forward, tossing it carelessly into the back of the vehicle. They made their way quickly inside, returning with another lifeless body. Again she hoped to see if it were Carlsson, yet again the head had been covered by a heavy sack. The men through the body atop the other, slamming the doors closed, and climbing into the SUV.

The SUV sped off, skidding slightly on the rocky driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust as it left. She felt hopeless and overwhelmed, though the feelings quickly morphed from sorrow to rage. She flipped the safety off her weapon, determined to make those responsible pay for what they’d done.

From above she could hear voices. She crouched nervously behind a tree. Two stood on a small balcony smoking, the cigarette smoke drifting aimlessly into the night. She strained to hear their conversation but was unable to clearly make out more than a word or two.

Instead she began taking inventory of the number of people she might encounter inside. Both of the men on the balcony were considerably larger than any of the men she had yet confronted. They finished their cigarettes flicking the butts precariously in her direction; they both landed no more than five meters from where she knelt. The butts still glowed orange as she made her way out of the trees, tucking herself against the wall of the mansion.

She carefully worked her way around the house, ducking carefully under windows, occasionally peeking inside – though each room was dark and empty. Her heart pounded, her nerves beginning to kick in. She worried she was far too outnumbered to even make a difference. 

As she made her way around the perimeter of the building, she could begin to hear the faint rumble of what sounded like a large diesel engine. With each step the roar of the engine got louder. 

She carefully stole a glance around the corner of the building. There was a large diesel generator connected to the building. Several wires and cords were strung back and forth between the unit and the old stonewall. Without the sight of anyone around she approached the unit carefully inspecting it.

Inside Dietrich paced back and forth down the length of the long hallway. He held his head high, his shoulders pulled back. His heeled shoes clicked redundantly with each heavy footfall. 

His two lieutenants appeared coming down the spiral staircase at the far end of the hall. The larger of the two nodded knowing what they were about to be asked. “They just left, I watched them pull away.”

Dietrich nodded, smiling enthusiastically, “We’ll have more work for them when they return. Let’s go have a little more fun.”

The trio of men made their way to the end of the hall, where a large wooden door sealed a tall and aged archway. Dietrich waited patiently at the door for one of his entourage to open it and inspect their captives. 

When he finally entered he could see his previous visit had taken more of a toll on the detective than he had intended. There was a larger pool of blood under his chair than he had wanted. Bishoff was white, his head hung as he slumped forward, almost lifeless. Tracks of dried blood snaked their way down the front of the chair. The inverted cross which had been branded on his chest had already blistered severely, the skin having opened up. The left side of his ribs, as well as his left hip, were covered in copious amounts of dried puss and blood. 

Dietrich strode over to Bishoff, grabbing him firmly by the hair on the back of his head. He pulled his head up looking the man in his weak eyes. He slapped the fading man’s face, gaining his attention.

“Done playing already detective?” He asked sarcastically of the man. “I’d planned on having a lot more fun the two of us together. Perhaps one final go around, eh?” He released the man’s head, it dropped immediately back to his chest.

Dietrich shuffled through the many different implements on the table. Frustrated he threw several of the tools aside. He walked back over to the suffering man, lifting his head by the chin. He stared deeply into Bishoff’s half closed and heavy eyes. 

“Perhaps your sufferings have been so great that you’re finally ready to go,” he whispered softly. He rose kissing the man tenderly on the neck before whispering, fairly erotically, in his ears, “Let me set you free.”

He walked to the man guarding the door, asking for his pistol. As he casually strolled back to the two men he checked the weapon’s load, flipping the safety off. He paced in a circle around Bishoff. His smile sickening Carlsson each time he caught a glimpse of it.

Finally he stopped, holding the pistol just a few inches from the man’s temple. A part of Carlsson wanted the man to pull the trigger and put the poor detective out of his misery. Another part of him prayed to a god he didn’t believe in. He prayed the gun would jam, or misfire, or somewhere deep inside Dietrich might just barely be human.

“Au revoir,” Dietrich whispered lovingly.

Carlsson jumped violently as the weapon loudly discharged. Bishoff’s head hung much as it had prior to the shot, though now blood flowed from the large exit wound on the left side of his skull. The plastic to his left had been thoroughly splattered and covered in blood, bone fragments, and brain matter. Carlsson clenched his eyes as tightly as he could, turning his head from the gruesome scene in front of him.

Two hands reached out grabbing his head, turning it forward. “Don’t be like that dear,” Dietrich’s voice tenderly called out. He opened his eyes to Dietrich standing uncomfortably close over him.

“Don’t worry, your turn is coming. I can sense your excitement! Its almost maddening enough to start right away!” It was then that the lights to the room cut off.

“What now?!” Dietrich yelled at his men who scurried out of the room quickly to investigate what had happened.

“I guess fate will tempt us,” He leaned to kiss Carlsson on the forehead. Carlsson took advantage of the opportunity, slamming his head violently into the man’s nose and mouth.

Dietrich stumbled backwards, tripping over Bishoff’s body in his chair. Recovering he approached, wiping the blood from him is mouth and nose, “I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.” He struck Carlsson across his cheek with the back of his hand, his large ring cutting into Carlsson’s mouth. He stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Danni stood next to the large generator with her large bowie knife in hand. All of the wires to the building’s main electrical service had been cut, and there were several large puncture holes in the generator’s fuel reservoir. She was careful to avoid getting covered in fuel. The powerful and overwhelming odor of gasoline began to fill the air as diesel streamed through each of the multiple openings.

She quickly tucked the knife back into its sheath, pulling the pistol from her waistband. She hurriedly, though quietly, retreated back into the nearby woods. She knew it wouldn’t be long before a detachment of men arrived to check the building’s sole power source. 

With any luck she would be able to surprise the men before they fully realized it was sabotage, and be able to take them out before they could identify where she was hiding. Quietly she crouched behind a large tree, her ears waiting for the sound of footsteps in the night.

She didn’t have to wait long until the sound of footsteps filled the gusty evening air. She looked cautiously around the tree. Two men approached the sputtering generator, walking in the shadow of the building cast by the moon. She struggled to see exactly where they walked and her stomach knotted slightly.

As the men approached one suddenly called out in concern, having noticed the smell of gasoline and seeing the severed wires strewn across the barren ground. Both men dove behind the large piece of machinery for cover, reaching for their weapons inside the suit pockets. 

Danni cursed under her breath realizing it had been a major mistake to drain the fuel tank. She leaned out only slightly from behind her tree. She quickly tried to survey what position the two men had taken. One man had knelt on each corner of the large engine, their weapons drawn trying to survey the tree line for any sign of movement.

She wouldn’t be able to take a shot without exposing herself, and she frantically tried to analyze the situation in order to determine how she could best handle these two initial opponents. 

Almost as if she had wished it, the man on the far corner of the machine ducked out of view. Quickly she spun out from behind the tree targeting the lone man, closest to her. She leveled her pistol calmly squeezing two shots. The bullets careened off of the generator, sparking with each impact. A ricochet caught the man in the shoulder, though he was able to maintain his composure returning fire in the direction of the muzzle flash.

She ducked back for cover, belly crawling across the ground under the cover of the thick brush. She could hear the men yelling to one another, firing randomly in her direction. Their bullets whistled as the passed overhead. She reached another tree, nestling in close, with her back pressed firmly against the trunk. 

She worked her way around the trunk opposite of where the generator was. Her goal was to surprise the men, firing on them from an angle in which they were unprotected. 

Peeking around the trunk, she noticed the two men had begun to creep up on her former position. They were both out in the open with no cover, their pistols trained on the dense undergrowth. 

Again she wheeled out from her cover, her sights trained squarely on the closer of the two men. Her finger gently squeezed the trigger. Three loud pops filling the air. The first man immediately dropped, the second diving for cover behind the nearest tree.

She cursed herself, realizing that with each shot she fired she lost the element of surprise, and risked potentially drawing reinforcements from inside the manor. She peeked around each side of the tree she hid behind, trying to spot the slightest of movement or the outline of her final target. She couldn’t see anything.

As she shuffled trying to pick up something at which to fire, she stumbled over a few large stones. Reaching down she grabbed a rock, and without looking she threw it into the brush along the tree line in the general direction of her pursuer. 

Falling for the trick, a muzzle flashed, three shots all focused in the general area where the stone fell. Danni could now clearly see where the man was standing. She aimed carefully, barely exposing herself. Two more shots rang out in the night. The dark outline of the man spun, falling to the ground. 

Danni took a moment to check the status of her first target; he remained laying motionless on the ground. She checked the second target, no movement. She could hear one of the two men groaning. Deciding that she had had the clearest shot on her first target and that he was most likely already dead, she slowly approached the second man hoping to learn some valuable intelligence before making her way into the chateau. 

She approached tactically, her gun trained forward, and at the ready should she be suddenly surprised. She did her best to approach silently, the dead leaves and twigs littering the ground made that practically impossible. 

The man lay rolling on the ground. He had been struck once squarely in the shoulder, and another in his diaphragm. Each breath was a struggle, and she used her foot to roll the man onto his back.

“How many are inside,” She demanded, pointing her pistol squarely in the middle of his face. The man laid silently on the ground staring blankly up at her. 

“How many are inside!” she repeated more forcefully. 

The man reached for a knife hidden in his waistline, forcing Danni to jump clear of the blade as he swung it violently and carefree in her direction. She kept her gun trained on him, and when he had realized that he had missed, he plunged the knife squarely into his neck. Blood squirted fiercely from the man’s neck.

“No, no, no,” Danni uttered under her breath realizing she’d lost a valuable opportunity. The man quickly bled out as he clutched his throat, the knife protruding ominously from the side of his neck. 

She reached for his gun, quickly checking its caliber. It matched that of her nine millimeter. She dropped the magazine, tucking it into her bag. Slowly, checking her left and right she made her way into the open, rolling her first target over with her foot. He had been struck twice in the chest, and had died quickly. Again she grabbed the man’s weapon pulling the magazine in case she might need it later.

Paranoid she once again checked to ensure that no one was approaching silently from the shadows of the building. She tucked herself tightly against the wall of the building, making her was toward the entrance she had seen the bodies had been carried out.

She walked silently in the shadows around the side of the building, clearing each corner as she made her way back toward the nearest entrance. The two men who had loaded the dead bodies into the trunk of the SUV had left the door propped open in their rush to leave, though it wouldn’t have been a difficult task to make her way in regardless. Rather she was more relieved that she would be able to maintain some small amount of secrecy in entering.

The first room she entered appeared to have been built originally as a servants’ entrance. It was rather large, perfectly designed to have received stock or supplies, held refuse, or provided the many servants the opportunity to prepare for their day’s labor. 

Despite the many construction permits that had been pulled from the building the interior reflected little work actually having taken place. There was crude wiring running along the ceiling connected to rather hastily hung lights. The aged stonewalls were weathered and cracking, their drab gray tones exuding a sense of utter depression.

The interior of the room was black, though her eyes adjusted quickly. It was unusually quiet, the only sound coming from the howling wind as it made its way through the several cracked walls, and missing windows.

She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her jacket before proceeding into the adjoining room. It was a large kitchen, emptied of everything save a few built-in shelves and a large stone wood-burning oven. The faint blue rays of the moon lit the room slightly, and she quickly made her way toward the next door, trying to avoid walking through any of the light filtering in through the windows.

The floors of the building were covered in a fairly thick layer of dust and dirt. There was a clear path in all the grime where multiple people had passed both recently and regularly through the empty building.

Making her way out of the kitchen, she found herself in a long hallway, lined on both sides by windows. Feeling exposed and uncomfortable, she quickly advanced through the hall her gun focused on the archway at the end of narrow passageway.

The trail worn into the grime on the floor began to disappear as she made her way into the main interior of the building, the lack of windows kept many areas of the inside shadowy and dark, perfectly allowing her to make her way from room to room unseen. 

As she worked her way along the lower level of the estate she checked and cleared each room she came to, often turning unexpectedly to check behind her. Each unexpected moan exuded by the old and worn building caused her heart rate to spike and her palms to sweat.

Each room she checked had, up until this point, been empty and long abandoned. She tried to keep her gun at eye level in order to avoid walking into the many silky spider webs that filled the unoccupied rooms, and abandoned passageways. 

She came to a large door, the first that she had found to have been closed. She grabbed the large iron handle, calming her breathing slightly. Gently she turned the large handle quickly pushing the door open, leading with her gun. Like all the other rooms this one too was dark, though unlike the many before it, it was filled with several boxes, tools, and construction materials. She moved gracefully into the room, a stream of light filtering in through the lone window, dust danced in its blue rays.

She quickly spun checking each of the corners of the room. Slowly she made her way into the room, checking behind stacks of dusty boxes. Satisfied that the room was clear she dropped her gun to her side and took a moment to look through the contents of the room.

The numerous cardboard boxes were covered in a think layer of dust and cobwebs. They’d been stored in the room, and seemingly forgotten by time, the last several years passing without anyone noticing. She opened a few only to find them filled with construction materials. Leaning in the corner there was a large roll of industrial plastic. Several makeshift shelves held tools that hadn’t been touched since having been forgotten about.

She was pulled back to her mission as voices drifted into the room. Outside the door she could see the beams of flashlights darting around on the walls and floors. Immediately she made her way to the door, leaning against the interior wall silently trying to decipher what the group of men was saying.

As she stood listening it was clear that they had recognized that the normally closed door was now hanging open. Thinking quickly she made for a dark portion of the room, ducking behind a stack of boxes. She would wait until the group began to enter the room before springing from her cover. 

The group approached cautiously, their lights fixated on the door. She could hear the footsteps, and tried to count the number of men. She couldn’t, she guessed there couldn’t have been more than four, but even that number made her nervous. 

The footsteps slowed, there voices no more than a whisper. She peeked over the boxes; no one was visible in the door. Her finger twitched slightly on the trigger. A light began shining into the room from the side, scanning the front corner as she watched. She raised the pistol from her knees to chest high. 

She ducked behind the boxes just as the first man spun into the room, she could see his flashlight pass overhead against he wall. Footsteps followed, she figured at least two men had made their way into the room.

She took one final small peek, identifying where the men were standing. Without a word she sprung to her feet. She fired twice at the first man; he fell hard to the ground, the thumping of his body against the stone floor filled the room. She redirected he attention toward the second man. Again she pulled the trigger smoothly. Two shots rang out. The man dove for cover back into the large foyer just beyond the room, groaning loudly. 

Danni dropped back behind her box, crawling along the floor behind the stacks of boxes toward the back left corner. She could here him pulling himself along the floor. He shouted at the other men telling them where she had been. 

The room erupted in gunfire as two men, one high in the doorframe, the other low, spun into the room blindly firing toward where she had been. The boxes exploded under the barrage of bullets, the aged cardboard ripping to shreds. Dust filled the air. She lay motionless on her stomach in the corner. She could see about one vertical meter of the door’s opening between a narrow crack in the boxes. She subtly readjusted her position, and took careful aim toward the frame. She hoped the boxes would conceal the muzzle flash of her weapon, while the smaller size of the room might conceal exactly where she hid.

A man’s legs quickly appeared in the room, his flashlight illuminating her former hiding spot. She carefully took aim at his upper thigh. She fired. The man spun around, his leg flying out from underneath him. He caught himself on the doorframe, cursing in pain. Hopping quickly out of sight.

Dietrich sat silently at his desk intently reading through several historical texts, the room lit by several large candles. The room smelled faintly of bleach. Where his two chairs had formerly sat, the space was now empty. A breeze entered through the cracked window.

He had heard the initial exchanges of gunfire, dismissing it as overly anxious, spooked, and irresponsible men. He had peered out his window, though the shots had been fired on the other side of the building. 

Now he could here the distinct correspondence of gunfire erupting inside the building. He reached into the second drawer of his desk and withdrew a distinctively modern pistol. He rammed a magazine into the butt and pulled the slide to prime the weapon. He flipped the safety off, grabbed a nearby flashlight, and made his way toward the office door.

Flipping on the handheld light, he peeked his head out of the door, flashing the light down each direction of the darkened hallway. He snaked through the crack in the door heading for the circular stairs at the far end of the hall. He carried the gun high, using the light to illuminate his path. 

He could hear his men screaming in pain, and barking directions at one another, trying to locate and eliminate their deadly opponent. He could feel his heart racing as he wound down the dizzying staircase. Upon reaching the bottom he leveled his gun and sprung into the downstairs foyer. It wasn’t far to his right that three of his men were huddled around an open storeroom. He quickly made his way to the men, joining them against the wall alongside the opening.

He looked disapprovingly down at the man who was hunched on the ground, trying to tie his shirt around his upper thigh in an effort to control and slow the bleeding. The makeshift tourniquet was soaked in blood, and the man’s face was pale; his hands shook as he tried to tie the cloth. Dietrich shook his head, though he realized he would have to deal with the man later at a more appropriate time.

“Talk to me,” he hissed at the men.

“We’re not exactly sure. We joined Bauer and Klein at the SUV when they returned, and all went to check the generator after the gunshots. We found both Meier and Thomas dead, and the generator sabotaged,” the man whispered in reply, “we entered the building tactically and found that this room had been opened. When we began to enter we were attacked. We’ve lost Bauer, and I took a bullet in the left shoulder.”

“Fix it!” Dietrich howled, furious with the men. His eyes filled with fire, his face flushing red with anger. The men understood, nodding in return.

He turned away quickly, making his way, half walking and half running, to the other end of the foyer. He pulled a large skeleton key from his pocket, fumbling as he tried to unlock the large unwieldy door. He cursed under his breath.

The large lock clicked as it released, and the door moaned under stress as he pulled it open. The plastic crumbled with his every step. He marched directly to the table using his flashlight to locate a pair of zip cuffs. He tucked them into his pocket before turning his attention on Carlsson. The air in the room was humid, the stench of iron in the air.

Carlsson had heard the several exchanges of gunfire, and he sat alertly in his chair hoping the commotion was a sign of rescue or at least an opportunity for eventual escape.

Dietrich made his way around behind him, placing a hand on each side of his head, forcing his gaze forward toward where Bishoff’s lifeless body still sat slumped in his chair.

Leaning in closely, Dietrich whispered in Carlsson’s ear, “Seems like we’re going to have a little change in plans. We’re going to have to take our perverse game somewhere else. But don’t worry too much. I know a perfect place where we will have all the privacy we could ever dream of.” Carlsson tugged away from the man’s large hands, screaming out. Dietrich reached back, and swiftly cracked Carlsson in the back of the head. It was hard enough to silence the frantic man, but not entirely knock him out. 

Dietrich rushed back to the table grabbing a large rag and thick length of rope. Returning to Carlsson he forced the cloth into the man’s mouth, tying it tightly behind his head in the form of make shift gag. Next he tied a large slipknot into the rope turning it into a lead, and slid it over Carlsson’s head, drawing it tight.

Working hurriedly Dietrich quickly cut the man’s wrist bindings, and leaned him forward rushing to tighten the quick-cuffs, intentionally binding the tight enough to painfully tear into Carlsson’s already raw wrists. 

He leaned the incoherent man forward, holding him securely in place and cutting the ties around his ankles. He lifted the dazed man to his feet, tugging on his rope and leading him out of the room, his gun, ever at the ready. Entering the foyer he, positioned himself behind the slumping Carlsson, using the man as protection from any wayward shots. 

Carefully they began to make their way through the room and toward the buildings exit where the SUV was waiting for them. Carlsson stumbled still dazed by the blow to his head.


	15. Chapter 15

Still laying under the cover of her boxes, Danni desperately tried to think of some way to get out of her current situation. The men at the door had begun to narrow down where she was. Her eyes darted around the room hoping to find something that could be of use in helping her escape.

It was as she lay there that she heard it. It was Carlsson wildly screaming for rescue. His screams didn’t last long, but it was enough for her to know he was still alive. She knew now that her mission was once again that of rescue and not solely that of revenge.

She rolled further to the left opening a shot on the knee of the man standing to the right side of the doorframe. She aimed and fired. The man crumpled in a large heap on the floor. She squeezed off another single shot, it impacted square in the middle of the man’s broad back.

Another man grabbed him by the collar of his jacket dragging him out of the way before Danni could fire on him. Again she was forced to change her position, as her location was obvious in her having been able to shoot the man. She scurried wildly back through the room, no longer worrying about silence. Rather she hoped her movement would draw attention and give her the opportunity to fire on those still cowering on the other side of the wall. 

Peeking up from her new hiding spot she could see Carlsson, naked and bound, being drug past the door to the room. A man dressed in an ornate red outfit stood behind him, his face seemed familiar. The man raised his pistol and fired aimlessly into the room – four shots. She ducked for cover. When she looked again the man was gone, though she could hear him ordering the men to kill her. 

Her pulse now raced uncontrollably. She knew the SUV was waiting outside and that she had no way to pursue the man once he left. Glancing around the room she saw a large metal hand held toolbox. It was covered in dust, dirt and cobwebs. 

She stood fired two shots and dove back for cover. She quickly counted her shots, realizing that the gun only had one more shot before needing to be reloaded. Quickly she grabbed for the toolbox dragging it across the floor, repositioning herself to one knee. She glanced toward the door, she could hear two men arguing, but no one appeared in the aperture. She strained to lift the box, having severely miscalculated it weight. Mustering what strength she could, she threw the large item through the pane glass window just feet from where she knelt.

Spinning she trained her gun on the door, a man’s head peeked around the frame. She fired. The man ducked back behind the thick stonewall for cover. The slide of her gun locked back; she had finally emptied the magazine. Turning she leapt out of the shattered ground level window, rolling on the dirt when she landed. Quickly she jumped to her feet, releasing the magazine as she ran.

Without slowing or looking she pulled a new magazine from her bag, ramming it into the butt of the pistol. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one was at the broken window. 

When she rounded the corner of the building she could see Carlsson being stuffed into the back seat of the SUV, and she called out for the man in the red cassock to stop. He turned to look at her before slamming the door closed and jumping in the front seat of the vehicle.

She calmly aimed and fired. Four loud shots rang out in the night. Each shot finding its mark. The rear of the SUV sank, the tires immediately deflating. He tried to pull away, but the vehicle bogged down, not wanting to move in the soft dirt. The man jumped from the vehicle’s front passenger door, keeping the car between him and Danni. 

He flung open the back door and pulled Carlsson from the seat. Danni began to make her way toward the vehicle when she heard footsteps approaching from inside the building behind her. She immediately assumed that the men inside had finally realized she’d escaped the room. She bolted toward the tree line, diving for cover in the thick undergrowth. She hoped to buy herself a little time. 

Gunfire erupted behind her, bullets whistling as they flew overhead. She could see the man was escorting the still naked Carlsson into the woods, heading up one of the steep ridges. The light from his flashlight gave him away, as it darted back and forth in front of him forcing his prisoner up the steep incline.

Danni focused her attention back on estate house. A single man ducked his head out of the building; he seemed to be the only one pursuing her. She could tell that he had been injured in the way he held his right shoulder when he wasn’t aiming the gun. Though it didn’t seem as if the injury had dampened his enthusiasm for catching her. Laying in the thick brush she felt confident, insomuch as she held the advantage, as there wasn’t anywhere for the lone man to take cover and engage her. For every shot he would take, he would need to fully expose himself, providing her a large target to hit.

She knew she didn’t have much time, and most importantly she couldn’t let Carlsson and his captor get too far ahead of her into the woods. She slowly began to make her way in the direction that the man had fled, though she knew she would need to cross through open ground exposing herself to gunfire in order to pursue them.

Without warning the man darted from the entrance of the building, pointing his pistol in her general direction and fired in rapid succession, all while running toward the large SUV. Despite the hail of bullets Danni held her position and took three well placed shots. The man stumbled, and then fell, rolling along the ground stopping just short of the SUV. 

Cautiously she emerged from the brush alternating her attention between the entrance to the building and the man laying, squirming on the ground. With no one hiding in the shadows of the estate she kicked the man’s gun from out of his reach. 

Glancing up the ridge she gauged the progress the fleeing man had made, it wasn’t impressive, clearly he was struggling, and Carlsson had slowed him significantly. Stepping firmly on one of his flailing arms, he knelt by the gasping man, identifying his injuries. He had suffered a shot to the upper portion of the right shoulder, a flesh wound to the left ribs, and a shot to the torso right above the left hip. Though they were severe, the bullets appeared to have generally missed the vital organs, and the wounds wouldn’t kill him directly. 

“How many more are inside?” She asked coldly the barrel of the gun pressed tightly against the man’s temple. He shook his head.

“Tell me!” she demanded, pressing harder against the man’s skull.

“None,” the man stuttered in a combination of both fear and pain, “we had six, and you killed five. I’m the only one left.”

She thought for a second glancing over her shoulder at the fleeing man. His flashlight was growing more dim and sporadic through the trees. She rose to her feet, gave the man a swift kick in the gut. 

Knowing she might need him later, and alive, she quickly removed her belt. Once off she slid the loose end through the buckle and slipped it around the man’s head, and fitting it into his mouth. Hurriedly she the tightened the belt, slamming the loose end in the car door. He ensured not to leave him enough slack to slip out. Next she removed his belt, using it as a tie she bound his hands behind his back. She hoped the ties would hold until she returned.

She jumped to her feet, sprinting off in the direction of where the two men had gone. She couldn’t see the light any longer, and hoped that she could maintain a pace that would allow her to catch up with the man and Carlsson. In the back of her mind she feared that man might lay in waiting, having shut his light off, patiently preparing for the moment to ambush her.

As she ran, the quick glance she caught of the man’s face began to bother her with each pounding step. She hadn’t gotten an especially clear look at him, though she was certain he looked familiar.

She slipped on a loose patch of soil, and struggled to regain her balance. She cursed under her breath annoyed with losing the direction the men had gone. Stubbornly she refused to give up. Establishing her footing, she took off again. The apex of the ridge wasn’t far ahead and she hoped to be able to reestablish a visual on them from atop the better vantage point.

From the top of the long ridge she realized she’d made up more ground than she had initially anticipated. She could see the light of the man’s flashlight continuing to dart around the forest from ahead. With renewed spirit she began running down the ridge after them.

Her footsteps range out through the woods, twigs and leaves snapping and crumbling with each heavy step. She was fixated on the light, drawn toward it like an insect to a lamp at night. Her mind was blank; she only knew that Carlsson was in danger. It was her duty to save him, as he had saved her back in the tunnels in Eldenberg.

As she ran, the light stopped. It pointed in her direction, but didn’t move. Her heart pounded, and she didn’t know what to expect. She slowed her pace slightly pulling the gun to eye level as she approached.


	16. Chapter 16

Dietrich stopped tugging against Carlsson’s leash. He could hear the footsteps quickly approaching. The volatile evening breeze carried the sounds of snapping sticks and crumpling of leaves with it. He focused his light up the ridge from which they’d just descended. Though he couldn’t see anyone, he knew they were being pursued by the woman from back at the estate. She had somehow been able to escape his men.

Carlsson heaved heavily with each strained breath. Pain shot up through his legs to his knees. His feet bled wildly having been drug through the forest. Each step with his bare feet brought another stinging pain. Each twig and stone sliced through his tender raw feet. 

Having stopped to listen Dietrich realized the footsteps were much closer than he would have felt comfortable with. He had struggled to get Carlsson to cooperate despite his weapon and leash. He realized it was time to face the woman. Whether it be on his terms or hers, he was willing to sacrifice his prisoner should it save his own life. 

He kicked Carlsson’s knees forcing him to kneel on the ground. He held firm to the leash and flashlight in one hand, and his pistol in the other. He pointed the light in the direction of his pursuer. He pressed the barrel of the gun firm to the back of the man’s head, while stepping on the man’s ankle. Ensuring the bulk of his weight bore down painfully on the man’s leg.

The footsteps slowed significantly and drew nearer. Out of the darkness a female figure emerged. Her gun was raised to her eye line and ready to fire. Dietrich held his ground smirking as she made her way from the shadows.

Carlsson was overwhelmed at the sight of her. “Danni,” he uttered under his breath, unsure of what he had expected.

“Danni, is it?” Dietrich reiterated smiling disgustingly in her direction.

She finally recognized the man, a man she had remembered as a soft spoken and caring priest. A man she now realized had expertly hid such a dark and twisted secret. Her stomach turned to think that a supposed man of the cloth had been the one responsible for the murders of Sebastian and Duncan, and her and Carlsson’s pursuit.

“I’ll tell you what Danni, how about you and I play a little game?” he continued without waiting for an answer.

“The time for games passed a long time ago,” she responded coldly, her gun aimed squarely in the middle of his forehead. He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Kill me then…

“But if you do you’ll never know where the ‘brave’,” he stressed the word intentionally, “detective Bishoff’s family is…”

She glanced down at Carlsson, hoping he could confirm or deny the claim, then back to Dietrich. Her expression gave away her emotions, and Dietrich laughed upon reading her face. 

“You really thought I wouldn’t have an ace up my sleeve?” he asked, barely able to contain his surprise. 

An air or seriousness returned to his tone, “You have a choice to make Danni. Either you can save your friend, and most likely lover, or you can save three women – a wife and two daughters. Which will it be? You can only have one. Carlsson dies here where we stand or three innocent lives are lost so you can save him. Make a wise decision.”

She faltered at his words. Her gun lowered slightly as she re-gripped it, glancing down at Carlsson hoping he could provide her with some semblance of advice.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock – time is passing. Every second you spend thinking is a second closer to you sweet lover’s end. Neither of us have all night, you know…” He mocked her with his tone. His eyes begged to be shot, knowing that with his death innocent people would also die. She desperately fought the urge to shoot him. Her mind raced trying to find a solution to save both Carlsson and Detective Bishoff’s family.

“What guarantee do I have you won’t kill the women regardless of my choice,” Danni asked directly, trying to buy herself a little time.

“My word!” His voice crass and demeaning, almost sounding as though her doubt had insulted him.

“That isn’t enough!” She took a few steps forward and to the right, closing the distance between them slightly. Dietrich taunted her, imploring she remain still. In order to prove his seriousness, he thrust his gun deeper into Carlsson’s neck, drawing the leash tight so as to cause his chin to rise. 

“It will have to do.”

She stood for a moment, biting her lip. She needed time to think, and her best chance for stalling the man, would be to keep him talking, to keep him engaged. She could see the terror in flash in Carlsson’s eyes.

“Where are they?” she demanded, her hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

Dietrich shook his head smiling at his secret, “That’s not how the game is played. You choose,” again he forced the gun causing Carlsson to start, “his life or theirs. That’s it there is no more.”

“Either way you’re asking me to kill!” He nodded. His eyes exuding an absolute sense of pleasure, knowing he was tearing her apart inside.

“Choose!” he yelled loosing his patience, fire flashing in his eyes.

“Fine, you want a choice? You’ve got it! I want Dr. Carlsson. Now!” She responded, taking a step closer, forcing his attention to her gun. 

Dietrich chuckled, “See? We aren’t so different you and I.” He pulled a small knife from his pocket and knelt behind Carlsson, ensuring his weight fell heavily on his leg causing great pain. He whispered softly, “All we have are our wounds to wear, like decorations upon our chests, as medals. Let this be yours!”

With a quick flick of his wrist he cut the quick-cuffs. He dropped the rope and backed away from Carlsson, kicking him slightly with his foot, urging him to rejoin his partner. 

Dietrich held his gun so that any attempt to pursue him as he backed away would be met with force. Carlsson slowly rose to his feet, and staggered painfully forward toward Danni.

Without warning three shots rang out in the night, the echoes hanging hauntingly in the still air. Nature itself responded in shock, birds taking to flight, the leaves in the trees shaking nervously. 

Danni ducked out of instinct, while Carlsson dropped to his knees before falling to the hard cold ground. Blood poured from the two exit wounds on his chest, while a third wound had cut a large hole in his lower back, just to the left of his spine.

For a moment time seemed to slow, as Danni watched Carlsson fall helplessly to the ground. Though she could hear herself screaming in despair, she didn’t seem to be in control of her own actions. She watched in horror as Dietrich slipped into the trees. His maniacal laugh haunting the night air.

She fired two shots wildly in his general direction without aiming before rushing to Carlsson’s side. She was overcome by both surprise and panic, as she tried to assess his wounds, though he refused to let her examine him. 

Instead he repeated sternly over and over again, refusing to answer her questions, “Find Bishoff’s family! Find Bishoff’s family…”

Without questioning she grabbed her pistol from the leaves and immediately began to pursue Dietrich through the forest. He had gotten a few hundred-meter head start on her, though now she was fixated on his light as he sprint through the darkness. She wouldn’t let him escape.

Occasionally he would turn slightly as he ran, firing a few shots in her direction in an effort to slow her pursuit. Yet with each deafening crack of the pistol she failed to so much as flinch, her pursuit becoming ever more determined. Rage coursed through her veins, and with each second that passed she found herself wanting nothing more than to make the man suffer for all he had done. 

Dietrich ran aimlessly through the forest, unsure exactly where he was going. He glanced over his shoulder realizing his flight was useless. As he looked, he failed to notice a large tree trunk, which blocked his path. The violent impact with the impediment sent him careening through the air. When he hit the ground he lost both his flashlight and his gun as they bounced off into the leaves.

He quickly gathered himself, and jumped to his feet, though it was too late. Danni had closed in and now stood a few meters away her gun trained squarely on his chest. He smiled perversely at her, his expression taunting her.

“Go ahead. Pull the trigger,” he mocked her. Danni stood motionless and stoic. Nothing would have made her more happy in that moment than killing the man. Though he didn’t deserve such a quick and painless death; he should be forced to suffer. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” he taunted again.

“Where are they?”

“That’s not really all you chase me for it is.” His comments were snide, with an air of disappointment.

“Where are they?”

“Make me,” he blew the woman a kiss.

It was a request she more than happy to honor. She jerked the pistol downwards, taking aim at the man’s knee. With one squeeze of the trigger the man’s patella exploded, and Dietrich writhed in pain on the ground, clutching the remnants of what had been his left knee. She approached slowly, ensuring she didn’t get too close in case he had a final rush of courage.

“Where are they?” Her tone was flat and demanding, a further statement she wasn’t here to play games.

The man stared up at her, his eyes screaming out in both incalculable pleasure and pain. He shook his had, doing the best he could to smile through the pain shooting through his leg, yet he sat silently, save the occasional moan of discomfort.

“Don’t make me ask you again. Where are they?”

“You’re weak,” he responded, “you should have killed me by now.”

Again she leveled the gun, this time taking aim at his other leg. Calmly and without regret she pulled the trigger. The loud shot echoed through narrow and winding valley’s carving into the mountainside.

The man screamed out again in pain. His scream slowly evolved into a sick laugh. Inside Danni struggled to control her rage, and she shuffled furiously on her feet. She was disgusted by the spectacle that she was watching. Blood began to stain the ground under the man red.

“Where are they,” she yelled enraged at the man. 

“I’m not sure you could handle the answer to that question.” He held his knee

Danni was surprised by the response, though it worried her. She took a step back surveying the miserable man.

“Try me,” she retorted coldly, staring callously at the maniac.

“You’ll have to kill me.”

Without thinking she raised the gun in anger firing a single round into the man’s right shoulder. She had lost her patience, and was sick of being toyed with. She wanted answer, and was willing to do whatever it took to get one.

Dietrich shook from the pain, and he tried to steady himself. Sweat poured down his brow, and it was becoming a struggle for him to speak. Danni walked closer to him crouching to speak to him.

“If you want this to stop, tell me where I can find the three women.” Dietrich again shook his head. Without pause she lifted the gun, firing at near point blank range into the man’s remaining shoulder.

“How about now?” she asked calmly. Dietrich strained to smile, baring his large white teeth. He coughed violently.

“Dead. They’re dead, all three of them.” He laughed manically in her direction. Danni’s stomach turned and she felt as though she was going to be sick.

“Why? They were innocent. They were never supposed to be involved.” She asked more out of surprise rather than out of truly trying to understand.

“I wouldn’t ever have been able to let them go,” he struggled to respond, “they would have gone to the police immediately, not to mention I needed a little entertainment.” He coughed again, moaning at the strain it but on his failing body.

Danni looked sickly at the man, overwhelmed by what she was hearing.

“I strangled them all individually. Making them watch as I killed each one. The rush I got from their cries and pleading was astounding. They all looked so at peace when I was done, their soft skin, the smell of their perfume. Their cool naked skin pressing against mine….” He drifted off, as Danni jumped to her feet, understanding what he was saying.

“You didn’t!” she howled, her voice resounding in its fury.

Again Dietrich smiled sadistically, “I did. All three. And I’d do it again now if given the opportunity.” He tried to laugh, choking slightly.

Without a word she took a few steps, distancing herself from him slightly. She turned and fired the gun three times. Two of the shots struck the man in the chest and abdomen, while the third struck his throat. She watched as the man bled, his throat gurgling with each breath. It took only a few minutes and he was dead.

Danni tried to contain her emotions, but she was overcome by a combination of rage, depression, and shock. Tears of both horror and anger rolled down her face as she stood over the motionless Dietrich. She kicked the dead man in the stomach, before reaching for his flashlight that lay on the ground not far away.

She began making her way back to where she had left Carlsson. She didn’t waste any time, sprinting across the sparsely wooded ridge in his general direction. As she neared she could hear him moaning in pain.

Carlsson lay motionless on his side on the hard cold ground groaning. He was surrounded by a large pool of crimson. His breathing was heavy and irregular. He held his hands tightly to the left side of his chest, blood spilled through his fingers, running down his hand and arm. Danni rushed over sitting down beside him, gathering him into her arms. The only words she could muster in that moment were, “I know where they are Kai. I’ll make sure they’re safe.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him exactly what had happened to the poor women. 

Realizing the extent of his injuries she began to cradle him back and forth, “I’m sorry Kai… I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” She knew there was nothing she could do for him. It wouldn’t be long before he was gone. His wounds included direct hits to several of his vital organs, and he had already lost too much blood.

Knowingly he smiled affectionately at her, his eyes were filled with love and understanding. He knew now, in this moment, he had felt what it was to love, what it was to live, and what it meant to die, to be human. “Perhaps no perfect way exists, just many different paths. Without an absolute, without an idea of finality, all we can do is love. I’ve loved Danni. I love you.

“I’m yours, with every last breath I take,” he whispered, his breathing becoming shallow and uneven. Each new breath an especially difficult labor, forced, and painful. 

“Shhh…” She whispered, cradling his head in her lap, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She rocked him softly back and forth, unwilling and unable to let him go.

Danni reached into her pocket, and pulled out the large diamond to show him. “What is this,” she asked trying to distract and comfort him.

“I wanted to give that to you. You deserve it. I know it’s not technically mine to give, but when I saw it down in the tunnels last night, I couldn’t help but think of you.” He coughed. It was clear he was growing weaker. Danni wrapped her fingers tightly around the diamond, holding it firmly in the palm of her hand.

“I’m not ready to die Danni. I’m scared… I’m so scared.” His brown eyes growing terrified and empty. He strained to lift his arm, gently caressing her cheek with the back of his blood stained hand. She grabbed hold of it and pressed it tightly to her face.

“Don’t go,” she breathed. “Please… Not yet… I’m not ready!”

He smiled weakly, his eyes growing cold and distant. Tenderly he spoke, “We were the lucky ones. We’ve seen through the looking glass, and now, here, just beyond our grasp is heaven. Let it take me. Only now do I know time, and that time must run out for all of us… I’ve never felt so weak.” And in a moment he was gone. His body falling limp. She curled tightly around him, sobbing. 

“Sleep on… Sleep on… I love you! I always will.”


	17. Chapter 17

The last nine months had been extremely difficult for Danni. She had buried herself, as much as was possible without losing her sanity, in her work as a means of distracting herself from the pain and emptiness she felt inside daily. She spent several weeks in Eldenberg helping to expose the organization and their secret hideouts. She worked closely with several law enforcement agencies to paint a picture of what had been happening in the normally sleepy hamlet. 

The first several days after were the worst. She was interviewed by multiple investigative agencies for twelve hours a day. She had to explain on multiple occasions exactly what had happened in each of the different locations surrounding the village. She had hired a good lawyer, though no one seemed anxious in pursuing charges against, and eventually she was assured that there would be no punishment for anything that had happened.

The day that Carlsson was buried still haunted her dreams. Several nights a week she would wake in the middle of the night, her body drenched in sweat her pillow wet from tears. Though the nightmares had mostly gone away, she still dreaded the evenings, and the sense of emptiness and loneliness they brought with them. 

Since her experiences with Carlsson she had refocused her research, discarding her former thesis, and starting anew. Her new research thesis centered around The Judasian Order, and more specifically the influence of National Socialism on the religious and political philosophies of the secret organization. She would be the first published researcher whose findings had been derived directly from the internal texts and manuscripts of the, now defunct, secret organization. 

From the extensive research Danni was able to conduct, she had learned that Lindolv Dietrich was actually the great grandson of Isle Koch, who was an infamous woman with a history of sick and sadistic behavior. She had been affectionately known throughout World War Two by many names, though perhaps the most fitting was “The Bitch of Buchenwald”. It was a fairly well known fact that throughout the war she had a reputation of being promiscuous with the many high ranking SS officers she came into contact with, and that she had a relatively open relationship with her husband. Danni, having traced his genealogy and comparing war time records, was convinced he was a son had out of wedlock during a passionate affair between Koch and Josef Dietrich, a prominent and decorated general in the SS, and the man after which he took his name.

Koch had been accused and convicted of brutal war crimes against the inmates of the Buchenwald Concentration camp, where she had taken on the role of guard. In some of her more gruesome crimes, she was accused of stealing, drying, and framing the tattoos of men who were murdered in the camp.

According to those who knew Lindolv Dietrich as a child, explained that he had often derived pleasure out of capturing and torturing animals until they were dead. He had taken an extraordinary interest in the crimes of Isle Koch, though they had never understood why. He had been well educated graduating from university with honors, though he had surprised everyone when he announced his application to the seminary and desire to become a priest in the church.

Danni had been deeply disturbed by what she had found in the Chateau that night. She would still occasionally wake in the middle of the night, reliving the moment she walked into that dark room finding the body of Detective Bishoff. Her stomach still knotted thinking about the gruesome details. Sometimes she wondered if his great grandmother had passed on a part of herself that had found a weak soul to possess, driving his every sick desire. 

She had taken a specific interest in the many pieces of art, and had begun working diligently with multiple international teams, and investigators, on helping to begin to identify and locate the owners and families with claims to the many stolen works of art that had been recovered in the tunnels below Eldenberg. It was her personal goal to see each of the stolen artifacts returned to their rightful owners. Though the process was tedious and drawn out, she found some semblance of joy in it. The gemstones and gold, having no way of tracing ownership, were all auctioned off with the proceeds benefiting charities dedicated to the victims of The Second World War. 

The skull found perched on its pedestal down in the tunnel system was identified as having been that of Adolf Hitler, and the promptly destroyed in secret. The government and several law enforcement agencies were concerned about what might come from revealing such a dark find to the public.

For now she paced back and forth nervously back stage, behind a large curtain. This would be her first major presentation on her findings, and the conference center had been overrun by visiting professors, researchers, and the press. Her work, or more accurately her story, had garnered intense international media coverage, and though it had felt rewarding, she often felt overwhelmed.

It was time; she could hear the applause erupt from the other side of the curtain as she was introduced. Her stomach knotted. A part of her would rather have still be facing fire from an enemy then step out on that stage.

Calmly she took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. She tugged lightly at her suit jacket; it was a habit that she’d picked up from Carlsson. She played with her diamond necklace, rolling the large stone between her fingers, as she walked out on stage. It was the same diamond Carlsson had given her several months before, and she couldn’t bear to part with it.

The crowd calmed, each person eventually taking their seats. She thanked them all for coming and pulled her first slide up. The slide contained the pictures of Sebastian Christoff, Dr. Duncan Alberts, and Dr. Malakai Carlsson. Their portraits were accompanied by a poem from the late philosopher and metaphysical poet John Donne-

Death be not proud, though some have called thee  
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art no so,  
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,  
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.  
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,  
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,   
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

The auditorium was immediately overcome with silence, and Danni explained that without the bravery, fortitude, and sacrifice of these three men, they still might not have been able to disband one of the more evil secret societies known to the European continent. That without their sacrifice millions of dollars of stolen art, precious metals, and jewels would be in the hands of murders, their goal being to resurrect the racist and demented views of National Socialism. From there she dove into the bulk of her presentation outlining the many facets of the now defunct group, which had called themselves The Judasian Order.

Her presentation wasn’t meant to be especially long, and she had planned on speaking for approximately an hour, reserving a limited time for a brief question and answer session. Though when it came time for questions, no one seemed to have any. Rather they showered her in applause, everyone rising to their feet. 

Danni bowed slightly, her feet having swollen considerably throughout the hour, and her back ached noticeably. Waving to the crowd she made her way offstage, where she was greeted with hugs and congratulations from her many friends and family. 

“I think its time we head out,” she muttered giving her sister a hug. Her sister pulled back and gasped, her hand covering her mouth. She had known this was coming for some time, but in the moment she was overwhelmed with emotions. A tear of joy formed in the corner of her eye, as she embraced Danni again. She had been preparing for this day for months, and had never meant to have committed to so many different things in one day.

Danni and her sister carefully made their way to the parking lot, where their car was waiting. She smiled nervously as she climbed into the front seat. Again she waved to her family who would meet them again in a few hours.

Her sister pulled the car around to the front entrance of the medical campus allowing Danni to make her way inside without the need for a long walk across the parking lot or through the neighboring garage. 

Danni had always hated hospitals, and today was no exception. She made her way to the reception desk and checked herself in. The attendant was kind, and called the appropriate nursing staff to take her back to an examination room.

She waited patiently for her doctor, whom she’d met several times. She was a nice woman, and understood the duress that Danni had been placed under. Danni didn’t have to wait long, though she wasn’t sure she was quite ready for all of this to happen.

The doctor performed one final exam, asking her a few questions, providing her support, and a general understanding of her apprehension. She smiled warmly assuring her that everything would be fine. As she left the room, the doctor directed her to change into the medical gown. Danni had always hated them, but did as she was told.

After a short period her nurse and anesthesiologist came into the room to prep her for the surgery. They had her take several painkillers orally, in addition to a rather foul tasting antacid. Finally it came time for her spinal block, a procedure they had assured her would be painless, though one she still had reservations about. 

They laid her on her side atop a rolling table. The anesthesiologist numbed her lower back with a local anesthetic, before inserting the long needle into the lumbar region of her spine. She flinched as it stung slightly, although almost immediately there was a warm soothing release. She could sense her lower body beginning to go numb, her legs tingling slightly before she couldn’t feel them any longer.

The lights passed rhythmically overhead as she was rolled through the hospital. She counted each one as it passed, hoping it might somehow distract her from the present. It didn’t work; she was only made more aware of the inevitability of what she was about to face.

Once in the operating room the doctor explained that the operation would be relatively painless, and that it would take approximately thirty minutes until they were done, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Danni nodded, biting her lower lip, another habit she had unconsciously adopted from Carlsson.

The nurses positioned a blind across her stomach and the surgeon began. Danni just stared ahead into one of the surgical lights; trying to get lost in brightness, hypnotize herself in a sense. The process didn’t hurt, though she could feel a little bit of tugging and pulling. 

A part of her wanted the veil to be removed so she could see the process rather than simply hearing it. The sounds of the tools caused her imagination to run wild. The sound of suction made her head to spin.

“Here we go,” the doctor exclaimed excitedly. 

Shortly thereafter the quiet of the room was shattered by the wailing of a newborn child. Danni smiled nervously; there was no going back now. Despite her doing her best to prepare herself for this moment she felt both overwhelmed and unready.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor shared, handing the child off to a nurse to be wrapped in a blanket and examined briefly to ensure everything was as it should be. “They’re going to take him out and just make sure he’s healthy and that there aren’t any concerns, while we finish up here.” Her voice was soft and affectionate, helping to ease Danni’s concerns.

Danni could feel a tear forming in the corner of one of her eyes, but she fought to maintain her composure. She nodded her understanding, though there was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to hold her newborn child.

It seemed like an eternity before the doctor finished the surgery, though in actuality it only took a few minutes. Finally she pulled her mask down and smiled tenderly at Danni. 

“We’re all done here,” she said, “they’re going to wheel you back to a recovery room, and you baby boy should be waiting for you there.”

Danni thanked the doctor for everything she’d done, and was quickly on her way back to her room for observation. Her sister would be there waiting for her, as would her newborn boy.

Her bed was raised so that she laid in a slightly upright and seated position. She cradled her newborn son gently in her arms. Her sister had stepped out for a few moments; her family would be arriving any second. She took advantage of her privacy, rocking the boy softly back and forth.

“You know your daddy would be extremely proud of you Malakai,” she whispered tenderly to the small child. “He would have loved you very much. He was the greatest man I have ever met. So smart. So loving. Unbelievably passionate. I can see his eyes in yours.

“I’ll do my best for you, but I want you to grow up feeling like you knew him. Knowing he still loves you. Knowing he’ll always be here for you.” She kissed the baby boy’s forehead tenderly, a tear rolling down her cheek.


End file.
